


One and Only

by tinysparkofmagic (stardustandangels)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Soulfinders, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Anxiety Attacks, Fluff, Harassment, Idiots in Love, Insecurities, M/M, Meet-Cute, More tags to be added as the story proceeds, Panic Attacks, SPOILERS IN THE COMMENTS, Soul Bond, but only a little I promise, mentions of past bullying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-07-21 18:03:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7397872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustandangels/pseuds/tinysparkofmagic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack and Eric meet by chance when Jack wanders into Clara's Bakery one day. No one is supposed to know that Eric is a Savant, with extraordinary, super-human powers to his name, but he hadn't planned on meeting his soulmate over maple sugar crusted apple pie.<br/>A profound friendship grows between them, but it all seems to fall apart when Eric tries to tell Jack that they are soulfinders and destined be together, to complete each other.<br/>Can their burgeoning relationship survive all the challenges they are forced to face?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [Leo](http://midnight--rush.tumblr.com/) for beta-ing the mess that is my writing and also thank you to [Banana](http://kyarutryingtowrite.tumblr.com/) for all the help and encouragement so far. This story wouldn't have come into existence without you.
> 
>  
> 
> This is not your typical soulmate AU, I decided to go with a different concept here. Savants and soulfinders are a concept by Joss Stirling, one of my favourite authors, who brought them to life in her Finding Sky series. 
> 
> A _big_ Thank you to Ngozi for creating the magnificent piece that is the comic [Check Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/) All characters and the Check Please!'verse belong to her.  
>  I'm sorry, I'm bad at disclaimers. You have all my love, Ngozi.
> 
> Any other likenesses to stories or characters, as well as real-life people are purely coincidental.
> 
>  
> 
> I've got quite a bit already written, just not properly edited, yet. The whole story is planned out, so I won't leave this as an abandoned WIP. I'll be trying to post a new chapter every few days. :)

Jack puts away the last box with a deep sigh. Moving will never be one of his favourite past-times. Too many decisions to be made. At least his mother had helped him pick out the furniture, otherwise he would have been lost in another panic attack before even entering his new apartment.

Change has always been a reason that made Jack’s anxiety flare up, and taking this big step from college hockey to a professional NHL team isn’t going to make anything easier. He turns around checking his surroundings feeling pleased that everything is in order. He has to admit that his mother has a great eye when it comes to furnishing an entire apartment, even though the art she likes has always been of the more questionable kind.

Now that Jack finally allows himself to relax, his stomach protests loudly. He realizes that he hasn’t had anything to eat since breakfast and the clock tells him it’s almost seven in the evening.

Jack is tired and he wants nothing more than go to bed and sleep for a whole week, but not eating wouldn’t do him any good. So he tries to suppress the feeling of utter exhaustion that was about to overcome him for a bit longer.

Signing for the Falconers and moving to Providence meant a big change in his life even if he hasn’t really had the time to go and explore the city. He doesn’t even know where the next grocery store is located. He is definitely not cut out for being an adult on his own. The loneliness starts creeping into his bones, but before the feeling can overtake him, he grabs his wallet, keys, and coat and heads out. Maybe he won’t be scared out of his mind if he pretends that nothing is wrong?

It’s already fairly cold for the beginning of September and Jack misses the Indian Summer that they had the year before. But he’s used to much colder temperatures from his home town anyway, so this shouldn’t be bothering as much as it does.  With every breath he takes, the focus that he was missing earlier the focus comes back to him. Letting his mind wander he almost missed the warm lights of a small bakery in front of him.

Taking a chance, he pushes the door open and a cheerful ping greets him. Jack scans his surroundings, aside from a few patrons the bakery is empty. Well, not empty. The display cases are overflowing with baked good of every variation. How on earth is he going to decide on something to order?

“Can I help you with something?” The question snaps Jack out of his thoughts. He hasn’t even realized that he had been staring at the chalkboard menu behind the counter this whole time.

A tiny blond man with a kind smile on his lips is standing right in front of him, his elbows casually resting on top of the glass display.

“I – uh –” Jack inhales deeply. “You could, actually. Help me, that is.” Internally cursing himself for stumbling over the simplest words, Jack braces himself for a snippy response, but the baker only watches him patiently. At least Jack assumes that he is a baker, because he is wearing a white jacket under a patterned apron.

He is truly adorable and Jack swears he can already feel the butterflies starting to take off in his stomach. A glance into the reflective glass tells him that he has a light blush on his cheeks. But that’s only because of the cold outside, right? Jack forces himself to make eye contact with the tiny blond guy behind the display. He has light brown eyes that twinkle even with the bakery's soft lighting, and Jack’s mouth snaps shut, because he can’t handle all of this without hyperventilating.

“You know what? Why don’t you sit over there and I’ll get you a coffee first thing, then you can think about what else you’d like to have.”

Jack registers the slight twang in the guy’s speech and wonders whether or not he comes from the south. Jack moves to a high chair and sits stiffly at the counter across the coffee machine.

“Do you want anything in particular or is black all right?”

“Black with sugar, please.” Jack barely manages to croak out. Tiny blond baker hums to himself, but it’s not a tune that Jack recognizes.

Tiny Blond Guy places the cup gently on the counter in front of Jack, before taking a seat right across him.

“You don’t seem very well. Are you feeling alright?” He asks and Jack takes a sip of his still too hot coffee to avoid answering right away, giving him a little more time to think about a reply.

He settles on a little nod, but then decides to give the tiny blond at least some kind of explanation for his weird behaviour. “I’m sorry. I’m new in town and it’s all a little overwhelming. I’m okay now, I think.”

Jack doesn’t know what has possessed him to spill his guts to a total stranger. The guy doesn’t press any further as Jack sips his coffee. It’s a comfortable silence, accentuated by an elderly couple quietly chatting away at another table but Jack tunes them out completely.

“So, you’re new in town, huh.”

Jack just nods, not able to think of an answer to that statement.

“Welcome.” The man was beaming at Jack. “I’m Eric Bittle. I’m very pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand for Jack to shake. Jack clumsily places his cup back on the table and shakes Eric’s hand.

The touch is warm and comforting and Jack’s concentration slips for the first time in days and all the impressions of his surroundings come flooding in. Jack braces himself for an enormous flood of colour and emotion when he looks up, but it never comes.

He looks at Eric and he only sees his bright brown eyes, the tiny mischievous twinkle, radiating warmth and Jack feels more comfortable than ever. Eric’s aura is pulsing in a pale blue colour, with streaks of honey gold mixed in between. It’s nothing Jack has ever seen before and he can’t help but marvel at the beauty of Eric’s aura.

Too soon Eric lets Jack’s hand go and the colours dim down, but they are still present, pulling Jack into Eric’s ban.

“Jack Zimmermann.”

“Jack Zimmermann.” Eric echoes. “I could swear I’ve heard your name before. But I’m probably mistaken.” He murmurs to himself.

Jack smiles for the first time in days, Eric’s confusion is just so very endearing. Jack knows exactly where Eric has heard his name before, but he is going to let Eric find out on his own conditions. 

“Anyway.” Eric interrupts his own train of thought. “You came here to eat. Do you know what I can get you yet, or would you want a recommendation?”

“A recommendation would be nice.”

“Should I pick something for you or …” Eric trails off.

“Surprise me.” Jack says with a smirk on his lips.

Jack watches with great interest when Eric hops down from his chair and makes his way over to the display. He stands there for several moments and Jack wonders if he has forgotten what he wanted to do. Then he rushes off through a door that Jack hasn’t even registered was on the far end of the bakery.

Patiently Jack sips his coffee and waits for Eric to come back. After a few clanks and various other odd noises, Eric appears again, with a plate of steaming hot …

“Apple pie. I’ve got the feeling that you’re a classic kind of guy.” He smiles. “Would you like whipped cream or vanilla ice cream with it? Or both?”

“Apple pie, eh? I’d like some ice cream, please.”

Jack could only barely bite back a moan after he took the first bit, the smooth coolness of ice cream paired with the rich fruity cinnamon-y taste of the pie is magical. Jack’s eyes flutter closed and he revels in the explosion of flavour.

When he opens his eyes again, he can see Eric staring at him, even though he quickly looks away and pretends to busy himself. A few darker streaks of blue pulse through Eric’s aura, but Jack thinks nothing by it.

“This pie is amazing.” Jack compliments.

“I thought you might enjoy it.” Eric says with a small smile.

“You guessed right.” Eric beams at him again, but says nothing more. Jack just sits there, even after he finished his pie, drinking his coffee, enjoying the easy silence. His eyes follow Eric while he wipes down tables, clears them from used plates and cups. 

 

A glance at his watch almost makes Jack jump up from his seat, he has completely forgotten the time and he’s been here longer than he intended. Jack feels a little bad for leaving Eric with his dirty dishes to clean up, but he still has to go grocery shopping before the stores close if he wants to survive the next few days.

He walks up to the register and when Eric is looking up at him, he says: “I need to get going. But I really enjoyed your pie.” He works up the courage and actually manages to send a small, shy smile in Eric’s direction. The smile he receives in return makes it totally worth it. Maybe Jack should try and interact with people more often?

“I’m glad to hear that.” Eric says, his aura brightening, as he rings him up. “You should come back again sometime. It’s always nice to see some new faces around here.”

“Could you point me to the nearest grocery store?” He asks shyly.

“Right, you’re new around here.” Jack does his best to pay attention while Eric quickly explains him how to walk to the grocery store.

“Thank you. You were a great help.” Jack meets Eric’s eyes which are shining brightly in the dim light of the old-fashioned lamps of the bakery. 

Jack is amazed when he actually finds the grocery store on the first try. Eric’s directions really did help him, on his own he would have taken much longer to find it, if he would ever have. He goes through the motions of shopping almost mechanically, but the warmth that he felt when he was in the bakery never really left his bones.

* * *

This evening Eric locks up the bakery feeling a little light-headed. His thoughts are still with one Jack Zimmermann. He was well-mannered, with freakishly handsome good-looks and had about the bluest eyes Eric has ever seen.To some Jack would have seemed distant and closed off, even a bit arrogant, but not to Eric. He feels like he could see right through all of the walls Jack has put up. The tad of adorable awkwardness that seemed to surround him made him only more desirable in Eric’s eyes. He has to keep a careful eye on his heart if he doesn’t want to lose it to Jack.

He climbs the stairs to his apartment with mixed feelings. Jack had felt so close but so distant at the same time, but then Eric had seen bits and pieces of him before. The moment when he entered the bakery had been burned into his retinas because he had seen flashes of his future, clearly involving Jack in his dreams more often than not.

Jack Zimmermann.

Eric wonders what meaning he has for him. But then he sets a stop to his thoughts and reminds himself that it’s most likely just a coincidence. He can’t set his heart on a stranger of whom he’s dreamt of a few times before actually meeting him. That’s nothing out of the ordinary. He dreams about random people all the time.

Falling asleep he wonders if Jack will ever come back. What if this was the first and last time he has ever seen him?

* * *

Jack wakes up because the sun is shining through his curtains. He blinks a few times before he has shaken off the last ounce of sleep. Reluctantly he leaves the comforting warmth of his bed for the chill air of his apartment.

He has another week before the training officially starts, but that’s not going to keep him off the ice. Jack has his first team meeting tomorrow. So far he has only spoken to the managers and coaches, but not to his other teammates.

A glance to the clock tells him that it’s only seven am on the day he was supposed to be able to sleep in, but now that he’s awake he hasn’t got any desire to go back to sleep. He’s always been somewhat of an early riser.

He eats some muesli for breakfast and normally he would just be content to do nothing for an entire day, maybe read a book or watch some TV, but today he’s feeling particularly restless. After passing by his couch for the third time he realizes that he’s pacing. He gets out his running gear and decides that it’s a good idea to get some exercise and explore the city at the same time.

Jack’s feet are hitting the pavement in a regular rhythm and the cool morning air does wonders to clear his head. His mother always told him that he’s thinking too much, and running had always helped him to let his mind go blank and to concentrate on nothing but breathing regularly.

He makes his way along Seekonk River through the adjacent park, then over the bridge, along the other side of the river until he reaches Providence Expy and he crosses the river again to get back to Fox Point. From there he wants to make his way back home, but somehow he ends up standing outside of Eric’s bakery again, having subconsciously made his way back home only to pass by the homely looking shop.

On a whim he decides to go in and pay Eric a visit, just to say hello.

* * *

Eric can’t help to feel annoyed, the billing kicking his butt. Eric does everything that the bakery’s owner, Clara, can’t find the time to do anymore. Sadly that includes more accounting and less baking, but if Eric wants to open his own bakery one day, he tells himself, this is all valuable knowledge on how to run a business. The ringing of the ancient doorbell rips Eric from his thoughts, announcing the arrival of a new customer.

“Give me a second.” He says before looking up. He puts the last numbers in order before he looks up and is immediately drawn into the depths of Jack’s blue eyes.

“Goodness, Jack, why didn’t you say something? How are you?”

“I’m fine.” He says and Eric marvels at the deep richness of Jack’s voice.

“I’m very pleased to see you back so soon. What can I get you today?” Eric asks, his mood instantly better now that he gets to see a friendly face.

Eric watches in fascination how Jack regards the display of sweet treats with curiosity.

“Could you recommend something?” Jack asks shyly, much to Eric’s delight. He only realises it now but he has been looking forward to picking out another perfect snack for Jack.

“Anything?” Eric asks with a wide grin on his face, already knowing that the answer is going to be yes.

“Yes, please.”

Eric contemplates for a second before he knows what the perfect food is for Jack.

“You look a bit hungry, so why don’t you start off with something a little more substantial and I’ll make you a sandwich?” He asks cheekily.

Jack just nods, looking a little overwhelmed. But Eric forgoes it and gets to work.

“Ham and …?” Jack asks incredulously when Eric places the plate in front of him. “How did you know this was my favourite?”

“Call it intuition and years of practice?” Eric jokes. “It was just a lucky guess.”

Jack bites into the sandwich with great enthusiasm, and Eric can’t restrain himself from watching him, registering the pleased look on Jack’s face while he chews.

“Good?” Eric asks after a while.

“ _Good?_ ” Jack’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of his skull. “This is great. I don’t think I have ever eaten a sandwich this good.”

Eric smirks at his answer. He knows his sandwiches are phenomenal, but sometimes a little foresight could be handy in wooing extremely handsome customers, as well as in building up a following of regulars. He feels like preening. 

“I’m glad you like it!”

Eric is pulled away from his short conversation by some other customers entering the bakery and ordering a huge amount of donuts and cinnamon rolls. Now that they are all out of donuts and Eric has to abandon his conversation in favour of going back into the kitchen and starting another batch.

When he gets back to the register, a little out of breath, Jack is still there, but Eric knows that he has long finished his sandwich and was only waiting for him so he could pay and leave. Eric has to pull himself together so that he doesn’t feel the slight pang of disappointment in his chest. He would have loved to enjoy Jack’s company for a little bit longer. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for light harassment and mentions of bullying.

Meeting his new teammates for the first time was surprisingly pleasant and not all that awkward.

Jack has got a hockey nickname now. He hasn't had one at Samwell before and it will probably take some time getting used to it, after all, he has been 'Jack' the entirety of his college hockey career. Now he's got the nickname 'Zimmboni' and he can't say he hates it. It does remind him of Macaroni, but since that is one of Jack's favourite foods, he thinks he's going to be fine with it.

How Alexei 'Tater' Mashkov came up with that is a mystery to Jack, but by now he knows better than to object a given hockey name. Jack has long given up understanding the magical process of choosing a hockey nickname.

Jack tries to match the nicknames to the athletes he read up on before, but he keeps confusing them. He decides to give up his efforts for now and just make a list when he meets them again, maybe he'll even print out photos so he can learn the names faster.

He walks down the street, towards the city center, through the park that he likes to cross when he goes to visit Eric’s bakery. There sure are shorter ways to get there, but Jack likes the calmness of the park.

Jack never really listens to music, for many reasons. He likes music from the eighties, and he owns a pretty impressive CD and record collection. He has valued listening to music to wind down after work in his apartment, but there's also the technological obstacle that keeps him from listening to music on the bus or while he works out.

He simply hasn't had the time to try and find out how to get music on his phone. He likes to be able to hear and see what is going on around him, anyway. But today he's so enraptured in his thoughts that he only snaps out of his almost-trance state when he hears a familiar voice, unnaturally loud with an edge of shrillness in it, Jack automatically speeds up his pace.

He can see Eric's aura pulsing in an alarming orange-red before he can even see Eric himself. Jack is immediately on high alert so that there's nothing left of the calm honey golden glow he normally has to him. What has happened to Eric? What if Jack's already too late?

Jack knows that he is probably overreacting, but he can't shake the weird feeling that has settled into his gut.

* * *

Eric was just walking home after his early shift today, looking forward to a nice relaxed afternoon. Maybe he could try and come up with a few new recipes? Or he'd film one of his baking vlogs. He could also watch reruns of Gilmore Girls or binge-watch New Girl on Netflix, or just listen to some music, Beyoncé preferably. Anyway, this was going to be a good day, Eric just knows it.

"Hey, Bitty!"

Eric shot around at the nickname. It had been so long since anyone had called him 'Bitty' and it didn't bring any good memories with it.

"Bitty!" A way to familiar man made his way towards him and Eric's inside cringe at the sight.

"Paul."

"Bitty. Good to see you." Paul says with a smile, but Eric is absolutely sure that it is one hundred percent fake.

"I wish I could say the same." Eric snaps back. "What do you want."

"Can't I say hello to an old friend, Bitty?"

"First of all, I'm not your friend and secondly stop calling me 'Bitty'." He turns to walk away before the situation escalates further, but Paul goes to grab his arm, to hold him back.

"Let me go." Eric enunciates every word clearly, but Paul doesn't listen to him. Eric struggles but the grip around his upper arm is like iron.

Eric has to remind himself to just keep breathing. He doesn't want to have a full-fledged panic attack in the middle of the park.

"Bitty, don't be like that."

"Eric?" Paul is interrupted by a deep voice. Eric hasn't even realized that he had clamped his eyes shut and now opens them at the sound of Jack's voice.

"Hi, Jack." Paul, distracted by Jack's sudden appearance, loosens his grip on Eric who is finally able to wind his arm out Paul's grip. He hastily puts a few steps of space between himself and Paul, going over to Jack.

Eric can't help but inch closer to Jack, who's standing up tall and even a little dangerous. "Is everything alright?" Jack asks slowly, and Eric gets the impression that he wants to seem calm and collected, but Eric can tell that he's angry.

Paul’s usual I’m-so-confident-and-charming grin seems pretty uncomfortable and fake now that Jack is towering over him. Not for the first time Eric is glad that Jack is so tall and built, he can look pretty intimidating if he wants to.

“I was just catching up with an old friend,” Paul says, his voice hard.

Eric feels the anger bubbling up in Jack, but he can’t get a word in before Jack speaks up again.

“Sure. But others could and would interpret this scene as harassment. So I would kindly advise you to keep your hands to yourself next time.”

Jack glares at Paul. Eric feels intimidated by him despite knowing that this look is not directed at him.

“And try to respect other’s wishes when they don’t want to be touched.” Jack adds sharply.

“I’d better go now.” Paul stammers. “It was nice meeting you.” He turns around and practically flees from Eric and Jack.

Eric takes a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable.

But it never comes. As soon as Paul is out of sight, Jack drops his shoulders a little and he looks much more like himself, less intimidating. His hand hovers over Eric’s back, but he doesn’t touch him.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” Jack asks shyly.

Eric nods and then he feels the comforting press of Jack’s hand between his shoulder blades. Jack guides him gently towards a nearby bench.

Eric leans into Jack’s touch, desperate for closeness to a person he feels so comfortable with. He can’t shake the feeling, no matter how much his brain tells him that it’s unnatural because he’s only seen Jack a handful of times.

“Are you alright, Eric?” Jack asks, his voice soft.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

A sharp glance from Jack makes Eric blush and he backtracks quickly. “Well, of course, I’m not exactly fine, but now that he’s gone I feel much better already. It’s just, you know, he wasn’t really my favourite person throughout high school. He always used to pick on me. I was picked on a lot in school. I was always the small kid, the easy target.” Eric has to force himself to stop rambling before he embarrasses himself further in front of Jack.

“It’s okay to be scared. That’s nothing you need to be ashamed of.”

Eric’s mind blanks for a second. How did Jack know he had been scared shittless when he couldn’t get out of Paul’s grip? But then again he just said it was okay to be scared. Eric relaxes a little, slumping on the park bench.

“I - uh.” Eric doesn’t know what to say.

“We don’t have to talk about it, it’s okay.”

Eric just nods and the tension drains out of his body. As Eric relaxes their knees bump together accidentally. But when Jack doesn’t make any move, Eric just leans into the touch, hoping that Jack won’t notice.

They sit in a companionable silence that neither wants to break. So they just sit and watch the children that are chasing each other around the park, their mothers who seem all a little stressed out. Eric feels nothing but content in this moment.

Jack is the first to break the silence and when he does it is certainly not what Eric expected to hear. Even though he can see the future occasionally, he would never have dreamed about that happening.

“Bitty, eh?” Eric groans in response.

“What about it?” He asks, trying to sound annoyed, but he knows that Jack is just teasing him.

“That is one inventive nickname. And I have heard a lot of nicknames. Hockey without hockey nicknames just isn’t hockey.” Jack rambles a bit, and he feels silly the minute the words left his mouth.

Eric rolls his eyes. “I would know all about that. My high school’s hockey team gave me that nickname.”

“So you’ve got a real hockey nickname,” Jack smiles at Eric and he blushes brightly. How does Jack have that great of an effect on him?

“You’re one of us then.” Jack is still smiling at Eric.

“Unfortunately, the bullies got wind of it and used it to make fun of me. Because I’m apparently all ‘bark and bite’.” Eric makes air quotes around the words and smiles a too bright, self-depreciating smile.

* * *

“I like it, it suits you.” The words are out of Jack’s mouth even before he was thinking about them. He quickly looks away from Bitty- no, Eric and pretends that the dirt at their feet are the most interesting thing he’s ever come across.

“Sure,” Eric says. The sarcasm clear in his voice.

“I mean it, Eric,” Jack says quietly. “I’m not trying to make fun of you.”

“If you say so.” Eric responds, but Jack knows that he doesn’t believe him. He’s still sceptical, but he’s not angry at Jack, which he’s going to count as a big plus. Eric’s aura has golden streaks in it now and Jack is enraptured by their movements. Eric seems quite happy now. Nonetheless, Jack thinks intently about ways to steer the conversation into safer waters.

“How about we get some coffee, just …” Jack trails off.

He shouldn’t have worried, as Eric nods enthusiastically. He is already jumping up from the bench, immediately making plans for them. He pulls Jack up from the bench by his elbow and Jack thinks he’s hallucinating, but Eric’s hand does linger a few moments longer on his arm than it is acceptable for friends, right?

Jack trails behind Eric, who walks at a moderate pace and it’s easy for Jack to keep up. Not that he would have a problem to keep up with Eric even when he would be straight-up running. Jack is proud to say that he is in top condition for the new season.

Eric takes so many short-cuts Jack hasn't known of until just now and before he has the chance to memorize them, Jack is utterly lost.

“Is it okay if we don’t go to the bakery?” He asks, but before Jack can respond, Eric has already moved on to explain it to Jack. “I mean, I love it, and there is not a place in this city that makes better coffee than us. But I already worked a nine-hour shift today and I would only get roped back into working if I went there now.”

They end up in a small diner with cosy seats and warm lights. Jack knows that it’s not only the place but also the company why he instantly likes it here. They are seated in a small booth across from each other and it feels strangely intimate, even if it’s not.

It’s one of the rare moments where they both are completely silent only the jukebox as background noise.

“So this place has been stuck in the sixties?” Jack asks from behind his menu.

“I thought it’d be fitting.” Eric smirks and the butterflies in Jack’s stomach soar. He wrinkles his forehead, not really understanding what Eric meant. “Just like you.”

Jack’s eyes go wide, he can’t really believe that Eric Bittle, aka the sweetest little baker he’s ever met, is chirping him.

“And why would that be, Mr. Bittle?”

“I lost count of how many pop culture reference went over your head since we first met, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Jack blushes profusely. He knows he’s not up to date, but he had no idea it was this bad. “I uhm...”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not that bad. It’s actually pretty cute.” Eric says and winks at him. Jack knows exactly what this was for. Eric managed to get back at him for his comment earlier, with an amount of sass, he didn’t know he had in him. Jack’s heart beats a little faster and he can’t help but like Eric just a bit more.

They order coffee and a sandwich for each of them, chatting away animatedly for the better part of an hour. Jack and Eric are only interrupted by the waitress starting to change the menus for the evening crowd.

“It’s already this late?” Eric exclaims after a glance at the clock. Jack just shrugs and smiles at him. “How the time flies when you’re in good company.”

“I’m glad I classify as ‘good company’,” Eric says.

Jack’s grin goes wicked. “Who says I’m talking about you?” He looks Eric in the eye, trying to seem as serious as possible.

“You are not talking about this beautiful chequered tablecloth, are you?” Eric retorts and gets a warm smile from Jack in return.

Their companionable banter is rudely interrupted by Jack’s phone ringing loudly.

Jack feels reality catching up with him when he shoots Eric an apologetic look. “I have to take this.”

“Of course.” Jack notices that Eric seems a bit sad, but he can’t keep George waiting for long on one of the rare occasions she actually calls him. It’s going to be important.

* * *

Jack excuses himself politely when his phone rings. At first, Eric smiles at how nervous Jack seems to be to answer this call, so it must be pretty important, probably work related.

Eric looks after him when he steps out on the sidewalk and suddenly he feels a bit lost. Especially now that Jack has taken a few steps down the road and he’s out of Eric’s line of sight.

What is he supposed to do now? What is the procedure for your not-date running out on you, without giving you any pointers when your date will be back?

What if he doesn’t come back?

Eric doesn’t really know what to do, so he just orders another coffee - with cream and sugar - for himself. While sipping the hot beverage Eric contemplates what he should do now. Jack is gone and he doesn’t know whether he’ll come back. He uses the opportunity of Jack’s absence to take care of the check, that’s the least he can do to thank Jack for getting him out of that mess with Paul. Remembering the situation, Eric feels the anxiety crawling under his skin and he tries his best to force his thoughts on happier things.

He doesn’t really succeed, so he goes for his number one coping mechanism and starts thinking of new cupcake icings to try in the future. Typing his ideas into his phone, he realizes that it is already much later than he has anticipated. Now he feels the exhaustion of the day creeping up on him. Eric really should be leaving to get some sleep before his morning shift tomorrow.

Eric knows that he shouldn’t feel so guilty for leaving the diner. With his cheeks as red as a cherries, he politely asks the waitress to pass a message to Jack from him - if he does come back - explaining that he needs to work early tomorrow.

He has been waiting for Jack for the better part of an hour and he can’t really justify waiting for him any longer. Unfortunately, that doesn’t make him feel any less guilty. He hates that his chance meeting with Jack had to come to such a depressing outcome, but he can’t really change that. Jack was the one who left and didn’t come back. The more time passes, the less likely it is that Jack will actually come back.

On his way home, Eric contemplates on his not-date with Jack. It wasn’t a date. It was not. He tries to dismiss the thought that Jack had ditched him deliberately, but the feeling settles in this gut, but no matter what he does the knot in his chest doesn’t budge.

What if Jack came back just after Eric left and he wasn’t there anymore? Eric feels incredibly guilty that he left without saying goodbye. What if the waitress doesn’t deliver his message correctly? What if she doesn’t deliver the message at all? What if Jack doesn’t ask the waitress if Eric had left a message? What if Jack doesn’t come back at all?

When Eric gets home, he’s feeling dejected. The cloud above his head dims his normally sunny disposition. After a short snack, he falls into bed, his thoughts still running in circles.

* * *

Jack ends the call, slips his phone into his jeans pocket and makes his way back to the diner absent-mindedly. He hasn't even realized that he had wandered off quite a bit while talking to George. It would take him at least a few minutes to get back to the diner, back to Eric. He goes over the phone call one more time in his mind. He opens the calendar app on his phone, one of the few he knows how to operate, and enters his practice times for the next few days, sets his alarm for tomorrow before he puts his phone away and makes his way back to the diner.

He curses George for her bad timing, interrupting his and Eric's conversation. Eric. Now Jack is imagining how Eric will smile at him when he gets back. Jack knows he’s already in too deep. After a few minutes of walking, he stands in front of the diner again. He opens the door enthusiastically, looking forward to resuming his conversation with Eric.

Only when he looks around the diner, he finds their table unoccupied. His first thought is that Eric maybe went to the toilet, but on a closer look, he sees the table completely cleared from any evidence they’d ever been there. There's even a differently coloured tablecloth on it now.

Eric is gone.

That is not something Jack has taken into account when coming back. Why would Eric leave when he was just talking to George for a few minutes? George can really talk of anyone’s ear, she always says it’s a skill, but today Jack didn’t have the impression that he had been talking to her for long. He hasn’t been gone for that long, has he?

Confused, Jack pulls his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the time. A cold shiver runs down his back when he realizes that he has been gone for over 45 minutes. He wouldn’t have waited that long for anyone. No matter Eric was already gone.

He must have stood there pretty awkwardly, as a tiny waitress with short hair approached him.

“Are you Jack? Jack Zimmermann?” She asks, straight-forward.

Jack looks a little dumb-founded when he nods.

“Your date already left.” She informs him. Jack doesn’t have the guts to correct her that Eric hadn’t actually been his date, even if he had been, Jack had majorly fucked that one up.

“I know, I know. You don’t need to say anything. It wasn’t an official date or anything, but I swear you could cut the tension between the two of you with a knife.”

Jack has opened his mouth while she has been talking, but she isn’t having any of it. She waves her hand dismissively.

“Your boy asked me to pass you a message if you decided to show up again. When you ask me, which I know you won’t, but I’ll tell you anyway, he looked heartbroken. There’s one big apology needed if you want to make it up to him. Which you should.”

“What message did he ask you to leave me?” Jack asks, obviously curious. Eric had even gone through the trouble to leave him a message. Jack’s shoulders slump and he feels so guilty for letting Eric wait for him such a long time. So long that he even doubted that Jack would come back. How could he have not noticed that he had been talking to George for such a long time? They were just going over his schedule for the next week. It shouldn’t have taken more than ten minutes. Why didn’t he interrupt George?

Now he hasn’t any way to make it up to Eric. He doesn’t even have his phone number, he can’t even let him know that he’s sorry, he has to wait until tomorrow at least.

“Thank you …” Jack trails off, remembering that he didn’t even know the waitress’ name.

“Larissa, but you can call me Lardo.” She smirks. Jack instantly likes her. She is one hell of a girl, handing his ass to him.

“Thank you, Lardo.” He says again when she hands him a little note, neatly folded together.

Jack exits the diner, feeling a little lighter, but still guilty. What will Eric think of him?He was an absolute douche to him for making him wait for so long and didn’t even show up after an hour.

Jack is angry with himself that he forgot the time over one silly phone call with George. They could have done that after morning practice tomorrow, easily. Then Jack would have had his calendar with him and he didn’t have to spend at least ten minutes typing in the most important dates on his phone. Ten minutes he could have spent talking to Eric.

He makes his way home slowly, trying to hammer out a plan on how to apologize to Eric tomorrow. He’s set on apologizing. He doesn’t want Eric to think he’s indifferent towards him. He wants Eric to know that he values their budding friendship. He wants him to know that he likes talking to him.

Back in his apartment Jack finally allows himself to open Eric’s note. He is met with three lines of neat handwriting.

_Jack,_

_I’m sorry that I have to leave you like this. I’d like to have ended our conversation properly. As you can see I don’t like not saying goodbye, but it was getting pretty late and I have an early shift tomorrow._

Jack doesn’t understand why exactly Eric is sorry when it’s Jack’s fault that they are both left with a not-so-good feeling in their guts. That wasn’t what Jack had hoped to accomplish when he asked Eric for coffee.

He wanted to make him feel better about that disaster that was Eric’s encounter with Paul, was it, right? And not making him feel worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a bit of a cliffhanger in the end. I've got to keep things interesting, don't I?
> 
> Thank you for sticking with me so far. :)  
> Leave me a comment and tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack apologizes to Eric after their disastrous last meeting.

The harsh sound of his alarm wakes Eric too early the next morning. Once again he asks himself why he chose to become a baker. Actually, he hates getting up early, that is, at least when he is not feeling too well. He can already feel a mean headache start forming behind his forehead.

He gets up and makes himself a cup of coffee, putting some cereal into a bowl, adding milk before spooning it into his mouth listlessly.

Arriving at the bakery, the lights are on which means that Clara is already there, probably preparing the dough for the several types of bread which they bake freshly every day. When he enters the kitchen she greets him enthusiastically. Clara’s presence lightens up his mood immediately, but while he loses himself in his work, the thoughts of the previous day come creeping back.

Baking is always Eric’s go-to feel-good activity, but not even baking his signature apple pie can make him feel better today. Of course, Clara picks up on his not-so-good mood and of course she confronts him. Eric doesn’t even try to hide it from her, sooner than later he will be spilling everything that happened yesterday to her anyway. When he’s finished, there are tears in his eyes and Clara abandons her place at her workstation and comes over to give him a big hug.

“Oh Eric, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not that big of a deal.” Eric tries to deflect, but Clara isn’t having any of it.

“He made you feel bad, so it’s a big deal. I want you to be happy, Eric. Remember that.”

“I will, thank you.” She squeezes Eric once more before they get back to working in a companionable silence.

Clara offers to man the register herself today, because she can see that Eric is not really up for communicating with their regulars, who will probably see right through any façade he’s going to put up. Much less handling rude customers.

She lets Eric have the kitchen to himself, even allowing him to try out some new recipes. On the one hand Eric hates that she pities him, on the other hand he’s incredibly grateful that she leaves him alone and deals with the customers herself. It’s a slow day and Clara pops in and out of the kitchen every few minutes. Eric can tell she’s a bit bored, being used to baking all day, but she doesn’t say anything.

The hands on the clock over the door of the café part of the bakery seem to move extra slowly today. Eric decides that the only way to forget about that dreadful end of his not-date with Jack is to throw himself into his work. This time, unfortunately he’s not really able to turn his brain off while baking, but he gets in the old familiar flow easily. When he looks up the next time, it’s almost noon, which means his shift will be over in about two hours. Two more hours he can handle.

* * *

  


Jack is pacing. He does not know what to do. He knows he needs to apologize to Eric. He _wants_ to apologize to Eric. He just doesn’t know how.

He dials Shitty’s number and the phone rings once, twice, three times, before Shitty finally picks up.

“What’s up, bro?” Shitty’s cheerful voice only reminds him how happy Eric looked when he had been talking to Jack the day before. Now Jack feels the guilt creeping up on him. He hasn’t been a very good friend to his friends lately.

“Hey Shits.”

“Jack.”

“I fucked up and I don’t know what to do.”

Shitty has been his best friend since college, he is always brutally honest and Jack doesn’t always appreciate it, but he needs Shitty’s advice now.

“You don’t sound too good. Tell me everything, bro.”

So Jack does just that, he tells Shitty everything.

“You fucked up, dude.” Shitty says when Jack has finally finished.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Wait, dude, did you just say that waitress’ name was Lardo?”

“Yes?” Jack says hesitantly.

“Bro, I know her. She’s great. She’s one of my best bros. I’ve always wanted to introduce you two. I know you’ll love her.”

“What?” Jack is left speechless.

“Now you both go and get to know each other without me, man, I wish I was there. She whipped your ass, dude. I gotta ask her about it.” Shitty crackles at the other end of the line.

“Dude, this is amazing. It’s going to be ‘swawesome, when I tell her I know you.”

“Shits?” Jack asks, but even though Shitty is way off topic, Jack likes listening to Shitty talking to himself. It’s always a great source for entertainment. In a way it’s calming, too, but Jack has a much more urgent matter that needs immediate solving.

“Oh right, dude, I’m sorry. I was hang up on you meeting Lardo when you went out the first time. ‘Swawesome! But let’s get back to your Eric-problem.”

“What should I do, Shitty?”

This question brings Shitty right back into his element. Jack could say what he wanted, but Shitty is, has always been a great advisor in every situation.

“So you’re looking for appropriate apology gifts for a possible love interest?” Shitty asks halfway through another monologue about the gendered gift-manufacturing industry concerning holidays, such as Valentine’s Day and others.

“Shits, Eric and I are not getting together. We’re just friends. Nothing more.” Jack says slowly.

Jack can almost see Shitty’s facial expression. “Yeah, you tell yourself that, bro.” And launches into listing tons of possible sincere apologies.

A plan starts forming in Jack’s head and he now is hoping that Eric will eventually forgive him for his mishap with his too long phone call.

He just needs to …

* * *

  


It’s five minutes before the end of his shift. There were no incidents out of the normal order of things and Eric is very glad about it. This day could have been a total disaster, but it turned out alright. The only thing that’s missing from making Eric’s okay day a good day, is Jack.

Eric has gotten so used to his presence in the bakery, that it feels a little empty without him there. He knows that he’s not being logical at all, for all he knows Jack could have been there and he just doesn’t know about it.

But that’s alright, right? Jack’s a high-profile hockey player, someone like him would never just hang out with him for fun. He should better forget about Jack, because Eric knows that he is on the verge of falling for him. He’s not even a Savant for all that Eric knows, and probably straight, too. So Eric better keep his distance. This whole thing was bound to be a disaster from the second Jack set foot in the bakery.

Lost in thought, Eric hasn’t even registered that Clara had popped back into the kitchen and is now hovering next to him.

“Eric, darling. There is a gentleman out there who wants to speak to you.”

“I don’t really feel up to speaking to anyone right now, Clara.” Eric tries to deflect, but she takes him by his arm and pulls him lightly into the direction of the door to the café.

“He says it’s important.” She nods towards the door. “And I’m inclined to believe him, as my mother always said, you should always try and see the best in people. You should try that, too. And don’t jump to conclusions, that’s never done anyone anything good.”

She nudges him and Eric reluctantly steps out into the café.

He finds Jack standing at the other side of the counter, wearing a nice button-up shirt, and a dark blue tie. _A tie?_ Eric is a bit confused, he has only ever seen Jack in a henley or a hoodie. Maybe he’s having an important meeting later on. But then why would he come into the bakery beforehand?

Eric stops trying to make sense of Jack. Obviously there is more than one thing that he doesn’t understand about him.

“Eric – Eric, thank you for agreeing to at least talk to me,” Jack says, looking incredibly nervous.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Eric turns to the display case. “What would you like to order? I mean, Clara could have taken your order, too, but if you need me to do it, that’s fine, too.”

For the first time Eric lets himself look at him. It doesn’t escape his notice that Jack looks a little sad.

“I didn’t want to talk to you, just so you can take my order, Eric.” Jack says.

“Then why would you …”

Jack interrupts Eric’s fairly ridiculous rambling. “I wanted to apologize. For yesterday. I’m sorry, Eric. I –”

He gulps hard. “I’m sorry I got distracted so easily and left without giving you a heads-up. That wasn’t fair.”

“So you came back then.” Eric concludes dumbly. He is still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Jack didn’t leave him on his own deliberately. Apparently this all had been just a teeny-tiny misunderstanding? Eric couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“Yes, I came back. You must have thought – goodness – you must have thought the phone call was just an excuse, so I could leave you.”

Eric nods. He had felt endlessly stupid for letting Jack stand him up and he even waited for so long.

“Lardo literally handed my ass to me.”

“Lardo?”

“Our waitress. The one you asked to give me your message.”

“Oh.” Eric had never thought this would actually work.

“I’d like to have seen that.”

And with that they were back chirping each other. Only now Eric realises how much he had missed their easy banter. “The famous Jack Zimmermann got a lecture.” Eric chuckles at the thought.

“You’re not angry at me for leaving just like that?” Eric asks and Jack shakes his head.

“God, no. I was the one who fucked up and I should asking for your forgiveness. So, will you forgive me?”

A giant weight falls from Eric’s shoulders. “Of course, why wouldn’t I?”

“You’re too good to me.” Jack shoots back happily, but then falls back into a more sombre mood. “I’d like to make it up to you, anyway, Bits.”

Eric grins at Jack. “Go on, please. What did you have in mind?”

“I know that you love good food, but being a newly graduate from college and a bachelor, my cooking skills are not up to par.”

Eric smiles at him, but says nothing and instead waits for Jack to continue with his little speech.

“But there’s one thing I excel at and that is waffles. So I’d like to invite you to a movie and waffles, with lots of ice cream, whipped cream, everything that your taste buds desire.”

Eric’s heart flutters, no one has ever had the guts to invite him for food. They always assumed that nothing they could cook would be good enough for him. But then there is Jack, looking absolutely adorable in his button-up, hands clasped nervously together, proposing to cook waffles for Eric to make it up to him.

“You may not know this, Jack, but waffles are one of my favourites.” Then he leans forward and stage-whispers to Jack: “Don’t let my apple pie hear I said that.”

Jack laughs out in relief. But he doesn’t forget that Eric hasn’t actually answered his question. “So, what do you say?”

“I’d love to.” Eric smiles. “I’d love to have waffles with you.”

Eric notices Jack breathing out slowly, before a bright smile works its way onto his face.

* * *

  


“Why don’t I get you a coffee …” Eric trails off and turns around to look at the clock on the wall behind the counter. “My shift is over anyway, and let’s make plans?”

Jack smiles in response. “I’d like a coffee, please. Black with a little cream and sugar.”

“Coming right up.” Eric turns around and gets to work. “Why don’t you pick out a table for us, Jack?”

Jack nods first, but then speaks up, because Eric’s standing with his back to him. “Yes, sure. I can do that.” He stammers, his nerves still getting to him.

Eric chuckles lightly and Jack once again remembers how much he likes Eric. Of course in a non-sexual way. He wouldn’t be able to be in a same sex relationship as a professional NHL player anyway. With his anxiety issues he is certainly not ready to be the first player to come out as gay.

Jack takes a seat on a corner table, hidden away from the others in a small niche. When Eric places the first cup on the counter, Jack gets back up and carries the cup carefully to their table. Eric joins him a few minutes later with a plate with a big slice of cherry pie on it and his own coffee.

Eric smiles at him shyly. “So, waffles, yes?”

“Waffles.” Jack confirms. “Would you like to come back to my place and I’ll cook waffles for you? You could also pick out a movie you’d like to watch.”

Eric’s smile seems to light up the whole room, it is just so bright. “That sounds like a brilliant plan.”

“What’s a good day for you?”

“I haven’t got very many events to attend to just yet. I can move them around to make things fit.” Jack states and Eric’s aura glows in a happy gold.

“Afternoons are better for me though. I have morning skate most days.”

“I must admit that I thought you looked vaguely familiar the first time we met, but I just couldn’t place you, so I googled you when I got home.” Eric confesses. “I’m not a creep, I promise.”

Jack laughs good-naturedly. “I don’t blame you. And I don’t think you were being creepy.”

Eric sighs. “Goodness, I must say I’m a little relieved right now.”

“I know that I’m not like a regular person and sometimes people recognize me on the street. Being the son of Bad Bob has its perks, but anonymity is not one of them. “

“I bet.”

“I didn’t know that you were transferred to the Falconers. I’m trying to keep up with all the news, but sometimes it just gets too much.”

“It’s mostly gossip, though. Not anything you can take trust on.” He rolls his eyes dramatically. “There’s so much wrong information about me out there, sometimes they think they know me better than I know myself, even though I know that’s not possible. It’s mostly just lies.”

“It’s hard to find reliable sources these days. I get that a lot when I’m researching new recipes to try. There’s so much bullshit – oh my I’m so sorry.” Eric clamps a head over his mouth.

“I get it.” Jack’s eyes crinkle with amusement at Eric’s antics.

They fall into a light chatter about recipes and hockey and Jack is once again stunned about how much he enjoys Eric’s company. He’s funny and witty and he thinks he can’t ever get enough of the cute blond man sitting across from him.

Jack interrupts his own train of thought harshly when he realizes that they haven’t set a date for their waffle-making yet.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” Jack bursts out.

“Tomorrow?” Eric looks a bit confused.

“For the waffles?” Jack informs him shyly.

“Yes, of course, the waffles. Gracious, how could I forget?” Eric facepalms his forehead and Jack finds it incredibly endearing.

“Yes, Jack, I’m free tomorrow night. I’ll be looking forward to it.”

“I’ll text you my address?” Jack asks only to realize: “I don’t have your phone number. God, I’m so stupid.”

“That, I can change.” Eric smiles at him encouragingly. He gets up from his chair and Jack doesn’t really get why he is going away all of a sudden, they were just about to exchange their phone numbers, right?

He feels stupid when Eric comes back with a pencil and a small piece of paper. He sits back down and writes his name and number down with the same neat handwriting Jack has already seen on the note Eric left him yesterday.

He looks into Eric’s light brown eyes when he hands over the note and when their hands brush he feels sparks trail up his arm. Jack can barely fight the full-body shiver at Eric’s close contact.

He doesn’t even know how long it has been since he had any human contact, excluding the checking in hockey and playful punches his teammates always greet him with. They don’t count. Maybe a little bit, but not really.

But he finds himself thinking that he really likes Eric touching him. His fingers are smooth and a little bit colder than his. Jack regrets having to pull away from Eric’s touch. He doesn’t want to make the whole situation weirder than necessary.

“Thank you, Bits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you thing, please? I love to read your comments!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The it's-not-a-date waffle date, or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little shorter than the others, but don't worry the next one is coming soon. :) 
> 
> I hope you have as much fun reading it as I had writing it. Don't sue me if I make you crave waffles or other food, please. ;)

Eric’s hands are cold and clammy when he knocks at Jack’s apartment door. He has a date with Jack. Well, not a date, but not a rendez-vous either, maybe a meeting? Eric isn’t really sure what this exactly is what they are doing.

He was delighted when he found out that Jack lives just a few blocks down from him.

The only  thing that he knows for sure is that they are going to have waffles. And he’s inclined to believe Jack when he says that he makes excellent waffles. Mostly it’s because Eric _wants_ Jack’s waffles to be great. He may or may not be biased concerning everything Jack.

The door opens in front of Eric and Jack greets him with a big smile on his face. Eric takes him in, all tall, dark and handsome, but the brightest smile Eric has seen for days. His eyes flit over Jack’s appearance, his eyes shining in a bright blue, a small smudge of flour on his left cheek.

Eric finds it absolutely endearing, even the neon pink apron with white letters saying _Whisk me away!_ in a beautiful cursive.  

“Whisk me away?” Eric asks and Jack turns bright red.

“I didn’t realize I’m still wearing that.” Jack moves to take the apron off as he invites Eric to step into his apartment.

Eric stops him. “Please, leave it on. I like it. It couldn’t be more cheesy, but I like it.” He winks at Jack, to let him know he’s joking.

“It was a gift.” Jack explains lamely.

“I’m sure.” Eric says. “My only question is: Where do you find these things?”

“It was a gift, I don’t know where Shits got it from. He has his resources.”

Eric’s eyes go comically wide. “You’ve got a friend who is called Shits. That poor boy.”

“That’s not his real name, you know.”

“Then why are you calling him Shits? Isn’t that kind of a shitty nickname?”

Jack laughs out loud. “His nickname is Shitty, actually. It’s his hockey nickname. You are familiar with the concept, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Eric says. “But why’s he called Shitty?”

“Actually, I don’t really know.” Jack smirks. “And I don’t know his real first name either.”

Eric gapes. “You don’t know his first name. How?”

“No, I don’t. At Samwell we learn our teammates’ first names from their grave stones. That’s how Ransom and Holster have always put it.”

“I’ll take it, even though I don’t really understand.”

“I don’t think anyone does, really.” He pauses. “Understand that, I mean.”

Jack motions Eric to take off his jacket, and ushers him into the kitchen where a grand mess of kitchen appliances and flour and milk is spread out over every possible surface.

“Oh good, the light is still red, so the first waffle is not ready yet. I started preparing, but I haven’t gotten around to clean it up yet.” Jack admits and rubs the back of his neck. Eric finds it incredibly adorable. This. Is. Not. A. Date. But the way Jack pulls one of the high chairs out and motions for Eric to sit, sure makes it feel like one.

Jack proceeds with making waffles, glorious and golden brown that melt on Eric’s tongue when he sneaks a bite out of the uppermost waffle from Jack’s pile of freshly baked waffles.

“You really didn’t exaggerate about making the best waffles.”

“Why are you eating already?” Jack says in mock offense. “I told you not to.” He waves his scoop in Eric’s direction.

And Eric gives him a full body laugh, with his head thrown in the neck.

“Already disrespecting my wishes. Who would’ve thought.”

“I couldn’t resist. They just smell so good.”

“Be patient just for another minute, eh?” Eric nods solemnly in response. “Or you could slice the strawberries?”

“Strawberries?” Eric asks with disbelief. “Where did you get strawberries from at this time of year?”

“In the supermarket?” Jack asks back, only slightly confused.

“Oh, they are really late for this season!” Eric exclaims. “Hopefully they are not too off already. Finding good, fresh fruit off season is really hard.”

Eric furrows his brows. “But if they are still some decent strawberries out there, I could try making a batch of strawberry tarts.” He grins at Jack. “I make a mean strawberry tart.”

“I believe you.” Jack smiles fondly at him.

Eric cleans the strawberries meticulously before slicing them up. Jack just places the last waffle on the cooling rack.

“Would you like ice cream or whipped cream with your waffles?”

“Will you skin me, if I say that I’d like to have both?”

“Skin you?”

“It’s a saying …” Eric trails off.

“I was just messing with you, Bits.” Jack says and takes out a pint of vanilla ice cream out of the freezer. “Scoop up.” Then he turns around again and gets a bowl of whipped cream out of the fridge. “And whipped cream for the gentleman, because he can’t make decisions.”

“Are you chirping me, mister?” Eric shoots back.

“What if I was?” Jack’s voice has an almost defensive tone to it.

“Oh, nothing. I like it.” Eric smiles innocently at Jack. “It’s easy. I like it.”

Like most times, they fall into an easy banter. They chirp each other mercilessly while they finish their waffles in record time, they are just too good. Eric is a little bit angry with himself, because he wanted to enjoy them, but he finds himself not really caring, because they were absolutely delicious. Eric is chatting about his day, Jack offering little bits of gossip on his new team in return.

As they talk, the time flies by and Eric feels the disappointment slowly creeping up on him. This evening is going to end way too soon for his liking. He doesn’t want it to be over just yet. He likes their easy conversation, Jack’s calm presence, everything about Jack to be honest.

It has been a great evening so far, the future had only flashed a few times before Eric’s eyes and he thinks that he has managed to hide it pretty well from Jack, if he dares to say so. It had only been a few scattered images full of warmth, comfort, and laughter.

Too soon, Jack and Eric are both on their last waffle, Eric with a huge helping of whipped cream and Jack with just a little bit of ice cream, but he has dumped the remaining strawberries on top. Eric steals a strawberry that has dropped from Jack’s waffle onto his plate and pops it into his mouth playfully. Eric lingers before taking his last bite, chewing slowly. He’s been having a great time with Jack and he doesn’t want to go yet.

“Eric?”

“Mhmm.” Eric hums in affirmation.

“Would you like to stay for a little bit longer and maybe watch a movie?”

The words are spoken quietly, barely audible, but Eric understands perfectly what Jack has asked him. He is absolutely delighted. If Eric had any doubt left in him, Jack had wiped it all out with this one question. That shy smile on Jack’s lips is the best thing he’s seen in days. And it is not because Jack’s smile is gorgeous, which it of course is, but because the smile is so sincere and honest. Eric’s heart is beating faster and he mentally slaps himself when he sees Jack’s face fall when he doesn’t respond immediately.

“I’d love to.”

Eric is convinced. Absolutely and entirely. The thing that he has with Jack, their friendship, is not something you find at every corner. This is a once, maybe twice in a lifetime opportunity. Jack ducks his head and colour rises to his cheeks, when he peers up at Eric through those insanely long eyelashes of his.

They settle onto the couch, Jack on one end and Eric at the other and after half an hour worth of discussion they finally settle on _one_ movie to watch. It’s not like their interests clash too much to pick a movie, it’s the fact that there’s just too big range of movies to choose from. Jack doesn’t own any DVDs, except a Blu-ray set of _Lord of the Rings_ , but that is, they decide, a quest for another day.

Eric looks at his watch halfway through _Big Hero 6_ and he realizes that it is getting really late, but then he settles back into the couch, enjoying the story and the slight dip in the couch where Jack has settled in next to him.

When the ending credits roll, Eric can’t put off leaving any longer, because it’s getting close to midnight and he actually needs sleep like any other normal human being, too.

“Jack?”

Eric turns his eyes from the screen to Jack only to find him dozed off on the couch. Eric tries not to look, he doesn’t want to be creepy, but the way the faint light of the TV reflects on Jack’s skin is not a thing you simply look away from. Jack’s stance is utter relaxation, his body sunk into the cushions, head lolled back and his mouth open a bit. Jack’s chest is heaving with deep, slow breaths that only the sleeping are capable of.

“Jack?” Eric calls out again, shaking his shoulder.

“Bits?” Jack wakes with a start, looking disoriented at first, but his blue eyes clear from any confusion in the matter of seconds.

“It’s getting late, and I need to get going. You know, sleeping and all that.”

Jack just nods, rubbing his hand over his eyes and Eric finds that little gesture so endearing.

“You should probably get some sleep, too. And I can tell you from experience, you’ll sleep better in a bed than on a couch. Which is way too small for you anyway.” Eric chirps him.

“You don’t live far from here, right?” Jack only asks, and when Eric nods, he says: “I’ll walk you home.” In a tone that allows no objections.

So Jack walks him home like the gentleman that he is. Just like one would do after the date with a loved one. Eric needs to remind himself at least ten times that Jack is not interested in him and this was _not_ a date before he falls into bed and blacks out almost instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just saw that I've got 55 subscriptions on this story and I was over the moon that so many of you want to follow my writing! I'd love to hear from you!
> 
> Leave me a comment and tell me what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric finds out he and Jack are soulfinders, but for Jack that seems to mean nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big big thank you to all who have been leaving me such kind and encouraging and curious comments. You are the best! This is the stuff that keeps me writing!
> 
> I proudly present ...
> 
> ...this chapter I was very anxious about how to handle. I hope you'll like it.

They fall back into their previously easy friendship after that. Sometimes it seems to Eric that Paul has never harassed him, Jack had never invited him out on a coffee and their reconciliation and not-date has never even happened, but when Jack smiles again, completely out of the blue, it gets harder and harder to keep denying his feelings for him. Jack never mentions it and Eric doesn’t either. Eric tries to be alright with all of this, it would have been too good to be true, anyway, he tells himself on more than one occasion.

Jack comes to the bakery a few times a week, or whenever he’s in town in between his pre-season games. Eric’s days are always brighter when Jack comes to visit. Sometimes he brings his old college friend Shitty, who immediately takes a liking to Eric, mostly because he gets free pie from him every once in a while.

It’s later in September now, and Jack is out of town frequently, so he doesn’t come to the bakery as often as he used to. Instead it is mostly just him and Shitty. Sometimes Lardo joins them, too, and Eric instantly takes a liking to her. She is sarcastic and witty and she is just about the only person in the world who can calm Shitty down after one of his feminist, liberal political or whatever-it-is-now rants, pick one.

Today, though, today is different. Eric can already tell that without having opened one eye yet. Something seems a little … off.

The odd feeling doesn’t dissipate during the day, and Eric is distracted, but he tries not to take his irritation out on his customers, even though he feels like it.

Eric is about to give the next customer a snippy ‘Welcome’, after the bell at the door rings, but a deep voice makes him look up and the cloud that has been hanging over his head all day seems to evaporate the second he lays eyes on Jack.

“Hello Bits.” He greets him carefully, as if he had picked up on Eric’s shitty mood.

“Hey Jack. I didn’t think you’d be back until Sunday.”

“Well, I guess you’re wrong, seeing as I’m here now, eh?”

“I’ve never been more glad about being wrong.” Eric mumbles under his breath when gets to work at the coffee machine and after a few minutes he places two cups of coffee on the counter in front of Jack. “Can you choose a table for us, I’ll get us some treats.” He turns around in a flourish and Jack is so enraptured by Eric, he doesn’t really pay attention to his surroundings.

_Mind the step, Jack._ He can hear Eric say and looks to the ground. He would have totally missed the step, hadn’t Eric warned him.

A fireworks explode behind Jack’s eyelids. He shakes his head to get his sight back, but his whole body is going crazy. His heart is beating hard and he’s breathing a little more heavily. _Thank you, Bits._ He turns around looking at Eric, but he’s with his back to Jack, shoulders rigid.

“Bits?” Jack asks carefully. “Are you okay?”

Eric turns around and smiles at Jack. “Sure, why wouldn’t I be?” He asks rhetorically and tries to smooth out the line out of his back, forcing himself to relax a little.

* * *

_  
_

_Thank you, Bits._ Jack’s words ring clearly in his head. Eric has to brace himself on the counter, the weight of Jack’s words hitting him like freight train.

Everything has been good so far, between him and Jack, and now that. Jack is a Savant, too. He has to be. He answered Eric telepathically, after he had instinctively called out to him. He has not only heard him, but he had answered him like it was nothing.

Eric has always believed the stories about soulmates his mother used to tell him when he was little. The fascinating concept of finding the one and only that fits you like no one else. The one that makes you feel at ease, the one that is home. Because home isn’t a place for Savants, home is a person. Their second half.

Not she herself, though. Eric’s dad is a normal person, without all the baggage that comes with being a Savant. Eric has the same gift as his mother. He can never tell if it’s boon or bane of his existence. He can see snippets of different versions of the future, he never knows if it’s real or not. Never knows if that version of reality will come true or not. He just knows it’s a possibility.

He dreams about the future often, mostly involving him or people close to him. He has never dreamed about total strangers before. Until he had dreamed about Jack coming into the bakery and about his love for apple pie and maple syrup. Eric should have known then that there was something up, but he had pushed the thoughts to the back of his mind.

He forces a smile onto his face and tries to not notice how Jack doesn’t seem the least bit phased about the discovery that Eric is his soulfinder. He hadn’t even batted an eye when Eric had spoken to him telepathically.

Eric goes over to the small table in the corner of the café. Jack had subconsciously picked out the place where Eric feels the safest. It’s Eric’s favourite table. How could he have known?

Jack sighs happily when he takes the first sip of his coffee. “I really needed this, I haven’t eaten since breakfast this morning. Thank you, Bits.”

_Bits._ There is that nickname again. The nickname that fills Eric with warmth and affection that he should certainly not be feeling for Jack.

“I’m glad you like your coffee, _but_ you should try this.” Eric pushes the plate with a big slice of apple pie in Jack’s direction.

“I tried something new, my other patrons have all loved this, but I still need your approval.” Eric says with a wink. “I laced the crust with maple syrup for a change and put a little cinnamon in the apple filling. So this is a maple sugar crusted apple pie of my own creation for yours truly.” Eric says with a smirk.

“Maple syrup?” Jack asks incredulously, his eyes getting wider at the mention.

“Yeah.” Eric blushes under Jack’s undivided attention.

“Let me try, please.”

“That’s what I was trying to get you to do for the past five minutes.” Eric chirps him.

Jack smiles at him. Eric likes these carefree smiles that Jack gives him so freely. He catches himself thinking that he wouldn’t mind seeing that smile every day for the rest of his life. Eric has to fight the pictures in his head. Jack doesn’t seem to have the slightest idea that Eric is his soulfinder. What if it isn’t true and Eric is just projecting his wishes on Jack?

He wishes he could talk to his mother about it, she would know how to handle the situation. He makes a mental note to ask her to skype him later today. He needs to know if it’s all just his imagination. Eric wishes it so desperately to be true. He doesn’t like the idea of finding a stranger and falling head over heels for them, but with Jack, he finds himself thinking that he doesn’t mind. Not at all. He’s gotten to know Jack. He knows Jack is a good guy.

“Bitty? Eric?” Jack’s voice banishes the dark thoughts from Eric’s mind.

“Yeah?” Eric looks up and finds Jack staring at him with wide blue eyes.

“You looked like you zoned out there for a minute. You haven’t even heard my question, have you?” Jack looks concerned and a vision flashes in front of Eric’s eyes.

_Jack with the same concerned look on his face, kneeling in front of a lifeless body, calling something out loud, desperately, if he trusts the deep crease on Jack’s forehead._

Eric creases his forehead to match Jack’s expression. “Bits, are you okay?”

Eric nods sharply. He thinks how he can throw Jack off his trail and make him believe that everything is alright. He puts a smile on his face, even if he doesn’t really feel like smiling.

“Do you like it?” Eric asks and gestures to the pie. Jack seems a little confused at the question, but then looks at his fork like he’s having a revelation.

“Oh, I haven’t tried it, yet. I had asked you a question just before you zoned out and I was waiting for an answer.”

“You should try it then.”

“Aren’t going to tell me what or _who_ …” Jack lingers on the ‘who’ for a moment before he continues speaking. “… inspired your apple-maple syrup pie creation?” He smirks and Eric can only think about how much he would love to kiss that smirk off Jack’s face.

“Do you really have to ask?” Eric winks at Jack.

“So it was me, eh?” Jack’s Canadian accent is now stronger and his gaze is so intense Eric thinks he’s going to melt if he doesn’t look away any time soon.

“Yeah, you once told me that everything was better with maple syrup and I wanted to try and prove you wrong. Guess what?”

“What?”

“I didn’t succeed, I was wrong. This pie turned out amazing. And now it’s only one more point on the list that maple syrup makes better.”

Jack chuckles. “I’m never joking about maple syrup.” He takes another big bite of his pie and moans around his fork. Eric watches, mesmerized, by Jack’s expression that was pure bliss.

Eric smiles at Jack. Another vision springs up on Eric.

_“No. You are crazy. This can’t be true.” Vision-Jack’s eyes are shooting daggers into his direction._

And Eric shivers at the intense image.

_Jack turns around on the spot, his back tense and shoulders drawn up. The door slams shut behind him._

Eric tries to shake off the cold feeling sitting in his stomach. Jack is still sitting across from him, devouring his pie. The pie Eric made especially for him. It all makes sense now. The feelings that Eric has for Jack, which only to seem to grow stronger every time Jack smiles at him.

They talk for a bit, before Jack excuses himself and leaves the bakery. Jack says he was going to meet one of his old friends from college this evening, now that he still has some more free time before the season begins.

Eric goes back to the kitchen, resuming his shift. He has still a few more hours until he can go home. Home where he can hopefully talk to his mother about the incident with Jack. What is he going to do?

He’s so distracted the rest of his shift, he almost messes up the dough for another batch of cinnamon rolls. Eric knows he’s being paranoid, but he swears the half-empty bottle of maple syrup stares at him mockingly from the shelf where he had put it away earlier.

* * *

  


Jack leaves the bakery with a bounce in his step, he is glad that Eric took his time and had spend his break talking to Jack. There were a few moments where he had thought there was something wrong with Eric, but as soon as he had asked, Eric was back to normal, smiling and chirping at him.

Jack makes a mental note to order an entire apple-maple pie, maybe even two, the next time he goes to the bakery, so he can introduce his team to the delicious treat. Cheat day suddenly becomes much more tantalizing in his eyes. Jack has never minded that he has a strict diet, but Eric’s pie makes breaking it so much more promising.

Soon Jack is back in his apartment, and the moment he steps over the threshold, he remembers the weird feeling he got when Eric had said _Mind the step, Jack._ It had been weird, but not particularly a bad weird, it was a generally good feeling. He is just not used to it.

Jack has always been much more perceptive and empathic when it came to other people’s feelings. His own feelings always seemed to be amplified when he’s around people whose aura he can see and read. He has often thought about how other people’s feeling influence him. He’s easily affected by them, so he tends to try to block them out whenever possible. He always thought his own feelings were connected to these surrounding him. His mother had always told him that he was just making things up, but Jack never really believed her.

That is all just part of the problem. Everything is too intense at all times, Jack can’t turn it off. Jack just wants to sleep and tune out the world for a few hours.

* * *

  


Right after Jack had left the bakery, Eric sends a text to his mother, asking if she is free to skype with him in the evening. He tries to keep it casual, but there’s no fooling his mother.

**Mother:** Dicky, what’s wrong?

**Me:** Can we talk about it later when I’ve got more time? I really want to talk to you.

**Mother** : Of course. Just call me whenever you get home. <3

Eric puts his phone away, relieved. His mother always knows how to deal with the most difficult situations. She has always an open ear for him, she’s the best mother Eric could wish for, supporting him whenever he needs it.

Eric counts down the minutes till his shift ends and it seems to drag on forever. No wonder Clara picks up on his skittishness and sends him home half an hour early.

“You’re going to screw up my cupcakes.” She says and ushers him out of the door after he had cleaned up his work station.

Eric is glad that he has the best boss in the world, even when everything in his private life is spinning out of control and inevitably going downhill.

He rushes to get to his apartment, not really running, but he wants to. Mostly he just wants a hug from his mother, but she’s all the way down in Georgia so he’ll take the next best thing he can get.

He lets himself into his apartment, where he has been living for the past three years and all but throws his jacket on the floor, kicking his shoes of to god-knows-where. He waits impatiently while his computer powers up.

When the distinct sound of skype tells him he’s online, he doesn’t waste any more time and clicks the call button on his mother’s skype. He wants to crawl through the monitor when his mother’s face finally shows up on screen.

“Dicky.” She sighs when she sees him up and well. “You scared me, I was so worried.” The tiny wrinkles on her forehead stand out harshly in the bad lighting of her computer screen, and Eric feels guilty to have worried her so much.

“It’s nothing wrong with me, mother. I’m fine.” He starts and she _tsk_ s him.

“Don’t lie to me, Dicky. I can tell you’re not okay. Tell me.”

“There’s this boy I’ve gotten to know over the past few weeks. He always comes to the bakery and he really likes my apple pie, cinnamon rolls, too. And he makes the most delicious waffles, he invited me to have waffles once, you know.”

His mother doesn’t interrupt him and he knows he’s rambling and avoiding getting to the point, but she listens to him carefully.

Eric sighs. “I warned him about that little step in the bakery, because _I knew_ he was going to trip over it. The thing is, I told him using telepathy, and you know what? He didn’t trip or anything, he even thanked me. _Telepathically_.”

“Oh Dicky.” His mother’s worried expression hasn’t faded since he has started talking. “Did you just expose yourself to another Savant? You know that this could be dangerous.”

“Not only that, mother. It was …” Eric rubs his hand over his forehead, trying to erase the headache that is starting to build up in his skull.

“I can’t really describe it. The feeling was unreal, it was like I’m flying, without the fear of hitting the ground, it was an amazing high I couldn’t come down from, fireworks exploding in my brain. It was an overload of feelings.”

Suzanne Bittle goes very silent at the other end of the line. When she speaks again, her voice is purposely levelled.

“Do you think …” She says at the exact time as Eric starts speaking anew.

“I think he might be my soulfinder.”

“Soulfinder.” His mother’s voice is full of wonder. “This is amazing. You know how rare it is these days to actually find one’s soulmate?”

“Yes, I know, mother. It’s great, I know.”

“Why aren’t you happy, son?”

“I don’t think he is. My soulfinder.”

“Why wouldn’t he be? Everything you described sounds _exactly_ like the feeling they describe in all the stories. Why would you feel like this, if he wasn’t?”

“It was like he was entirely unaffected by us communicating telepathically. Because he feels nothing for me.”

“Dicky.” His mother interrupts his train of thought.

“I wouldn’t be so pessimistic.”

“But wouldn’t you be, too. If you had found your soulmate and he wouldn’t have reacted _at all_ to you.”

“Dicky. I don’t know. I can play through the ‘what if’s in my head, but that’s nothing I have ever experienced nor will I want to experience it. I’m very happy with your father, you know that.”

“Yes, I know, mother.”

“Have you ever thought that he might not know?”

“Not know, what?”

“Not know he’s a Savant? Not know of soulfinders?” She asks her eyes big.

Eric hadn’t even thought of that. Human-born Savants were incredibly rare, because the Savant gene was transferred by the parents. There were close to none Savants who had non-savant parents.

“You know that these are a myth.” He deflects.

“They aren’t a myth, Dicky, the possibility that there are Savants whose parents are both non-Savants is pretty slim, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

“You’re right.”

“Aren’t I always.” His mother says with a smile.

“I’m afraid that I’m just projecting. I know that I like him and I fear that I’m projecting all of my wishes onto him and none of it is real.”

“It’s a valid concern, Dicky. But don’t you think that there might be the possibility that it is actually true? That this boy is your soulfinder?”

“Jack.”

“Jack what?”

“His name is Jack.”

“Maybe Jack _is_ your soulfinder. Maybe he’s not. You need to ask yourself if he’s worth the risk finding out.”

“Mother, didn’t you listen to me at all?” Eric says, eyes wide and afraid.

“I did listen. And I understood perfectly well. You are afraid, yes. You are allowed to be afraid, Dicky. But just because you’re afraid that’s not an excuse to be a coward.” She sounds stern now, and Eric is relieved to receive some kind of pointers in how to deal with this whole situation.

“What should I do, mother?”

“You can either let it blow over, or you could find out. That’s your decision.”

“That’s really not very helpful. At all.”

“You know my opinion on this. Be brave.”

Eric smiles at his mother, she always knows best how to encourage him when he’s feeling down. Now he only has to think of a way to tell Jack. It’s not going to be easy, but damn right, he is going to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think! What do you think will happen now? 
> 
> Leave me a comment, pretty please!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric decides to come clean to Jack about the whole Savant/Soulfinder ordeal. Things don't go as planned. 
> 
> **Warnings:** anxiety/panic attack, general heartbreak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry about the late update... From now on I'll make sure to post more regularly.

Jack’s good mood dampens with each step he takes further away from the bakery. It’s a gradual process and he doesn’t even register the sad feeling has crept up on him, until he’s back home.  


He passes it off as a side effect of the pressure he’s been under, and now that the first pre-season game is finally over, it all comes rushing back to him. The game against the Pittsburgh Penguins went pretty good in Jack’s opinion, they didn’t though. The Falconers lost 2-3, it was a close call, but they hadn’t expected a win against the Stanley Cup winners, so everybody was content with this outcome. The inevitable exhaustion that comes with the flight to and back from their away games, and the crowd of people at the check-out has never been something that Jack enjoys.

On top of that, Eric had acted particularly weird today. He had been extremely skittish around Jack, but then again, he had made a pie especially for Jack. It simply doesn’t make any sense whatsoever, why exactly Eric was so nervous around him all of a sudden. He is certain that Eric knows that he can’t date a man, plus he isn’t even sure that Eric is gay.  The signs are all there, but Jack’s guess is mostly based on cliché and that is normally not something he encourages, so until he has tangible proof, he’s not going to jump to conclusions.

Eric. Bitty. Bits. He has taken over a lot of Jack’s thoughts since they first met. There’s something special about him, something Jack can’t place. And Jack doesn’t want to fall in love, not when he needs to concentrate on his career. But it might already be too late.

* * *

Eric is torn. How is he going to break the news to Jack? Does he even want to let Jack in on this whole Savant and Soulfinder concept?

He’s been putting the inevitable conversation with Jack off for days now, even though he knows that it is only going to get harder to push himself to do it the more time passes by. He needs to do this. It would actually be best if he just does it now, because there’s no such thing as a perfect time, as his mother always tells him.

“Jack?”

“Bits?” He asks back, a mischievous flicker in his eyes. 

Would you like to have coffee with me some time?” Eric asks shyly.

“Yeah, why not?” Jack says after a short moment of contemplation. He gives a nervous smile, trying hard to mask it, but he doesn’t know if he succeeds. Jack doesn’t let it phase him, though.

“What time is good for you?” He asks.

“I should be the one asking you that. You know my schedule.” Eric says with a wink.

“Tomorrow afternoon, after your shift?” Jack asks, looking at the table instead of Eric.

That works well for me. Eric shoots telepathically into Jack’s direction. I’m looking forward to seeing you.

“Yeah, me, too. See you then, Bits.” Jack says and stands up from his table, moving to the register to pay.

Reluctantly Eric lets him, even though he’d much rather give Jack free food all the time, but he and Clara have to earn money for a living, too.

* * *

When he and Eric say their goodbyes, Jack experiences that weird feeling in his stomach again, but absolutely nothing seems to be wrong. He wonders why exactly Eric had asked him out for coffee, not really being able to come to any half-acceptable explanation.

He tries not to think about it too much, otherwise he’ll lose himself in a maelstrom of negativity and he can’t let that happen to him or else he’ll very likely have a panic attack in the middle of the street. Someone’s bound to notice, people recognize him on the streets. And the publicity that comes with a public breakdown is not really something he needs as the new transfer of the Falconers. 

He manages to push the feeling to the back of his mind quite successfully, and is only reminded of it the next morning that he actually has a date with Eric. He’s walking up to the Starbucks near his apartment with a sinking feeling in his stomach. But Jack has promised to meet Eric and he won’t break a promise he made to Eric, nor will he break the promise to himself. He’s dreading this meeting already.

Eric is waiting in front of the tiny Starbucks, his shoulders tense. When Jack allows himself a glance at his aura. It’s a swirl of a lot of darker colours, only a few lighter ones mixed in between. Even though Jack has a bad feeling about all of this, he wants to hug Eric and hold him in his arms until everything is alright again.

They get their coffee to go. Jack takes his as always, black with just a hint of sugar, but Eric gets one of those fancy pumpkin spice lattes, or however they are called. Jack has never gotten behind the concept of fancy milk frappuccinos and exotic spiced lattes. For him coffee should contain caffeine, not some sugar-cream-chemical mixture. But Eric seems to like it, so he’s not going to chirp him for spending five dollars on a chemical cocktail moonlighting as a coffee.

* * *

The silence is weighing down on Eric. He doesn’t know if Jack means anything bad by it, but he gets weird vibes from him. Maybe Eric’s just projecting again and Jack reflects his bad vibes. He desperately tries to conceal his nerves, but he knows he’s doing a shitty job.

He leads Jack through the street so that they’ll eventually end up in the park again. He needs to put his mind in a better place if he wants. His mouth is dry, his hands clammy with sweat and his mind is a rollercoaster with too many ups and downs.

“Jack.”

“Bitty.”

“I’m glad you agreed to meet with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? We’re friends right?”

“Right.” Eric says, but he doesn’t really mean it. “So, I meant to ask you… You know, you are a Savant, right?”

“Sa- what?”

“A Savant.”

“I have never heard of that.” Jack responds incredulously. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” All of a sudden his stance changed from slightly confused to being very defensive.

“A Savant is not completely like any other person. They have special gifts, supernatural gifts you could almost say.” Eric tries to explain, his voice soft, trying not to spook Jack more. “Some can see the future, sense people’s emotions, control the elements. But there’s one thing that all Savants have in common,” Bitty pauses, “they can communicate telepathically. Some can do telekinesis, too. That’s pretty awesome.”

“How did you …” Jack has put as much distance between them as possible, but he is still sitting on the bench next to Eric.

Eric turns his upper body, towards Jack, looking him in the eyes. It’s now or never.

“When I warned you about the step in the bakery, a few days back?” Eric searches for a clue on Jack’s face but he has closed himself off. He knows Jack is wearing a mask, trying hard to reel in his feelings and show him nothing but a façade. Eric continues talking when Jack gives him a sharp nod.

“I didn’t talk to you out loud.” I talked to you telepathically.

Eric can see in an almost slow motion how Jack’s eyes go big. The realization seems to hit him hard.

“How did you do that?” He sounds panicked.

Eric tries to play it down. “So you can hear me.” He adds a little smile at the end, hoping he could win Jack over. Now he knows that Jack does not try to keep his identity as a Savant a secret. He genuinely didn’t know that there were other people like him out there. No one can fake the utter shock that currently has Jack’s features frozen in a grimace.

“You may not have realized it then, but you replied to me telepathically, too.”

“I – what?”

“You said: Thank you, Bits. But not out loud. You told me telepathically.”

Jack doesn’t say anything for a long. He just gapes at him. Eric tries not to let his nerves run this moment. For such a grand revelation, Jack is handling this surprisingly well.

“Why are you telling me all this?” Jack’s voice is harsh and not at all like the deep soothing tone that Eric has grown to love.

“You’re a Savant, too, Jack.”

“I don’t know how you’ve come to this conclusion of yours. You are insane. But I’m no part of that world. I can’t be.”

“Jack.”

“No, Eric.  You are delusional.”

“Jack, please, listen …” Eric pleads, but Jack shoots him down.

“I’ve already got enough baggage I need to deal with on a daily basis. I don’t need your shit on top of that.”

“I could help, Jack. At least let me …”

“You don’t need to help,” Jack bites back, his eyes shooting daggers at Eric, “you already did enough.”

“Listen, please. It’s not like …”

“Sure it’s not. It never is.” Jack stands abruptly. “You know what. I don’t care. I may or may not be what you say, but you don’t get to decide that. Just leave me alone.”

With those words Jack turns on his heel and starts walking away. Eric is devastated. This couldn’t have gone any worse, could it? It was even worse than the worst case scenario he has been carrying with him all those days. 

Jack has always been so understanding. Eric would have never thought he would get so angry.

* * *

Jack’s heart is racing a mile a minute, his breaths are shallow, but too quick, he knows this. He knows he needs to focus on his breathing, deep, slow breaths. He knows this isn’t good but he finds him unable to calm down. The control is slipping from him, he’s gasping for air. He just can’t stop it. He wants to, but he can’t. His hands are shaking and he’s unable to take control. He’s feeling light-headed, and he feels his surroundings spinning around him. The ground is suddenly not steady anymore. It’s moving and Jack feels like he’s falling, but he hasn’t hit the ground yet.

Dark flecks are dancing before his eyes and he can’t re-orientate. A sharp pain shoots from the palm of his hand up his arm.

Jack’s mind is racing. He feels like he’s strapped to a spaceship. There’s no air, he can’t breathe. He can’t …  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack and Eric deal with the aftermath after their run-in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of a panic attack. 
> 
> So, there is finally a new chapter after a long time... I'm very sorry about that. Muses are very tricky these days. I hope I'll be getting more time to write in the future and finish this story rather sooner than later. We'll see. Please be patient with me (and bug me endlessly. It is very motivating.).
> 
> Enjoy!

Eric’s chest is aching. He could almost physically feel his heart shattering into a thousand little pieces. He would have never thought Jack would just go. But he has done just that and effectively cut their conversation short. Jack just up and leaves him standing there.

He sits back down on the bench for several long moments, because he can’t trust his legs to hold up his weight any longer. Eric counts his breaths slowly before he feels like his panic has subsided enough before standing up slowly. He braces his hands on the back of the bench, finding his balance before walking slowly to the far end of the park, his head hung.

He tries to push his thoughts of Jack’s distressed face out of his thoughts, concentrating on taking step after step till he gets back home.

He doesn’t make it very far, though. Jack is kneeling on the ground, something clearly wrong. His heartbreak is forgotten, Eric’s first and only priority is Jack’s well-being.

He kneels in front of Jack. “Jack?” He asks softly. _Jack?_ When he doesn’t get any reaction from him. He takes a closer look at Jack. His eyes are blown wide open, staring into the distance, not even registering Eric in front of him. His breathing is going fast, erratic, he’s gasping for air.

“Jack, can you hear me?”

 _You need to breathe._ He sends the words out telepathically on the specific wavelength he’d come to known as Jack’s own.

 _In and out._ __

_In._

_Out._

_In._

_Out._

Eric guides Jack gently through the motions of breathing regularly again. He places one of his hands on Jack’s bigger one, gingerly, trying not to startle him any further by his touch. Jack subconsciously turns his hand and hangs onto Eric’s hand, so he guesses it is okay for him to search for more physical contact with Jack and lays his other hand on his shoulder.

Eric hasn’t needed to look at his watch to know that quite some time has passed since he found Jack.

Slowly, Jack’s eyes seemed to focus on his face, before flicking away and back to him in rapid movements.

“It’s all good, Jack. Keep breathing. You’re doing wonderfully.”

“Bits?”

“Yes, it’s me, Jack.” The clouds in Jack’s eyes seem to disappear and he’s almost back to his normally so intense gaze.

“What are you – what are you doing here?”

“You had a panic attack.”

“Yeah, I know that. What are _you_ doing here?”

Eric lets his palm slide down from Jack’s shoulder along his arm, raising goose bumps in its wake all along Jack’s forearm before he rests it on Jack’s other hand.

“Only because you decided that I am not the one for you anymore, doesn’t mean I’m not going to help you when you need it,” Eric says softly, his face earnest.

“It’s just – it’s not like I want to not give you a chance, but everything – everything’s too much right now.” He chokes out.

“You don’t have to explain. You don’t owe me anything.” Eric says honestly, but he knows that Jack can see the sadness in his eyes.

“I want to explain. But I just can’t.”

“I handled the situation badly. This is not your fault. I should have known better. I’m sorry.”

“What’s done is done. We can’t make it undone now. That simply is not possible.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” Eric has turned Jacks hand around, tracing the lines of Jacks palm with idle fingers. “I want to make it okay again, but I can’t now, can I?” Eric asks quietly.

Jack scrunches up his forehead, deep in thought. “No.” He says, his voice hard.

“Okay.” Eric rubs his thumb over Jack’s palm in one final move when Jack visibly winces. Eric pulls his fingers back immediately.

His eyes are dark with worry. “Jack, what’s wrong?” Looking at Jack’s palm consciously this time he sees the blood running from a small cut from Jack’s palm.

“I must have cut myself.”

“You should put disinfectant on this. It doesn’t look very deep, so a simple band aid would probably do.”

When Jack doesn’t respond, Eric carries on talking. “I’ve got a first-aid kit at my place if you haven’t gotten one at your apartment yet. I know you just moved, but as I’ve learned from several baking accidents, a first aid kit is something you should always have at hand.” Eric knows he’s rambling, but he finds himself unable to stop.

“I’ve got a first-aid kit at home, Bitty. Don’t worry about it.” Jack says and puts one of his large hands on Eric’s shoulder.

His shoulders slump under the weight of Jack’s hand. Of course. Jack is a professional athlete, he’s bound to have a first aid kit at home. Most likely it’s not even one of these simple one’s that Eric has, but a much more equipped one, ready to deal with all sorts of injuries.

“Thank you for your offer. It’s very kind.” Jack pushes to his feet and offers Eric his uninjured hand. Gladly, Eric accepts and lets Jack pull him up.

They stand next to each other awkwardly, their natural chemistry seemingly gone. “I’ll better ...”

“Thank you again …” Eric and Jack start talking at the same time.

Eric pulls himself together. “You should really put disinfectant on that cut.”

“Yeah, I should get going.”

“Bye, Jack.”

“Thanks again for – you know,” Jack stands there refusing to even look into Eric’s direction. “Goodbye, Eric.”

“Goodbye,” Eric says quietly, but Jack has already turned around and is walking away quickly.

Eric starts walking into the opposite direction, even though his house is on the same street as Jack’s. He doesn’t need his gift to feel that Jack would not be very pleased to have him around right now. So he decides to take the long way home.

* * *

All Jack wants to do is run. Run fast. Run far away. So fast and far he’ll forget today has ever happened. Lose himself in the strain of exercise, so it’s all he can think about. Eric had looked positively dejected at Jack’s rejection like he had just lost all his hope at once. Eric had looked dejected, heart-broken.

He didn’t want to lose Eric. But after his revelation, that is not something Jack can indulge in. He has a career to think of.

If he has read Bitty right, the Savants are some secret form of humans, with certain _gifts_ that made them _more_ than human. Jack thinks that this is probably not the right way to put it, but his is still trying to wrap his head around this whole ordeal of being one of them. Allegedly. He doesn’t have any proof that Eric was telling the truth back in the park. Even though his gut feeling says to believe Eric, his brain says differently.

If he wants to believe Eric, this is also not something he should go telling everyone. They seem to be pretty secretive about their powers.

On a second thought, these _gifts_ , how do they work? Could they be dangerous? Telekinesis sounded pretty dangerous to him, Jack decides. He’s probably better off not telling anyone, not exploring his gift anyway. Not everyone could be as good and kind-hearted as Eric, right? So he’d better keep his distance.

But Eric wasn’t the only one who had gotten his heart broken. A sinister blanket of sadness settled around Jack. He couldn’t find anything to cheer him up when he got home and had disinfected his small wound. It stung like hell, but it helped.

Eric talking to him telepathically had set off a landslide of unwanted emotions inside Jack. Whether he wants to or not, he needs to get those under control first, before he can find out if there is something true to the words Eric has said to him. He knows that playing hockey with his head full of emotions running high was never a good idea. He would be too distracted from the game, meaning he wouldn’t play well. As a newbie, he couldn’t afford to play anything less than his best. His future depending on his first season as a professional didn’t help to reduce the stress that was put on him.

Plus, there’s the old feeling of making his parents proud pulsing in the back of his head. There’s also his old teammates, his friends who had celebrated him like he just had won the Stanley Cup when he got recruited by the Falconers.

He still feels like he needs to earn their respect just like back when he was their Captain. He needs to be better for them, needs to earn their trust and friendship.

* * *

Eric feels tired when he gets home, the intense feelings he felt at Jack’s rejection were soon replaced by a heavy stone sitting in his stomach. All he wants to do is sleep. Or maybe that wouldn’t be such a great idea because he already knows who will be present in all his dreams. Just like he always seems to be on Eric’s mind during the past few days, Eric can’t just turn his gift off at night and forget about Jack for at least a short amount of time.

He shoots his mother a quick message, asking her for a skype video chat once again in three days. He feels small and pathetic, hoping his mother knows how to fix this.

Relief settles in his gut when his mother’s familiar face appears on his laptop screen.

“Hello, Mother.” He greets her and her face instantly changes from hopeful to deeply worried.

“What’s wrong my dear?”

“He didn’t take it well.”

“The fact that you are soulfinders?”

Eric sighs, “I didn’t even get to that bit. He already freaked out when I asked him if he was a Savant.”

“He didn’t know, did he?”

“He had no idea. I know some people can be excellent actors, but this was real. I know him, mama.” Eric’s throat closes up when he confesses everything to his mother. Suzanne listens intently, not interrupting him once.

By the end of the story, tears were rolling down Eric’s cheeks, eyes red and puffy when he used his shirt sleeve to dry them temporarily.

“What do I do now, mother?”

“Dicky,” she sighs and wipes a stray tear from her cheek, “I know that things look like it’s the end of the world right now, but you have to stay confident that everything’s going to sort itself out. The universe sometimes works in mysterious ways.”

“I try, mama, but right now it seems impossibly hard.”

“It is. I’m not going to lie to you. It’s going to be hard,” she smiles just a little, “you’re so strong, Dicky. I’m sure you will pull through.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world now. It’s not like I’m going to see him again.” Eric says, choking up.

“Soulfinders are not the key to happiness, you know. You can’t find yourself in another person. You’re already whole yourself, Dicky.”

“I know, mama.”

“Maybe you can take some time off and come home, we can bake together…”

“I love you, mama. But I think I’ll stay here, working and so on…”

“You’ll fly down for Thanksgiving, though, right?”

Eric chuckles, “of course. Who would bake all the pie for Thanksgiving? I won’t let aunt Marielle bake them. She never does it right.”

Eric’s mother laughs at his dramatic eye roll. “What would we do without you?”

“Starve, probably.” He says deadpan, but then can’t hold back an infectious grin.

“Thank you, mother. I really needed to get all of this off my chest.”

“That’s what I’m here for, dear.”

“Thank you, mama. You’re the best mother anyone could wish for.”

“You’re making me blush, Dicky.”

“I’m just telling the truth, mama.”

“Hush. When’s your work tomorrow?”

“4 am, I’m on the early shift again.” Eric buries his head in his hands.

“Then I won’t keep you any longer so you can get some sleep, hon.” His mother says softly.

“Yes, mother.”

“And you know, you can call me whenever, right.”

“I know, I love you, mama.”

“I love you, too.”

“Goodnight, Dicky.”

“Night night, mama.”

They end the call and Eric already feels a little bit better, a little more hopeful. Things are going to sort themselves out. He’s going to be happy again. With a little time, he will be back to normal. Maybe he’ll even be able to forget about Jack.

* * *

Jack’s phone has been ringing persistently for the past few minutes. Whoever is calling must want to speak to him pretty badly.  

Reluctantly Jack picks up the phone. “Jack Zimmermann, speaking.”

“How often do I have to tell you that you don’t have to introduce yourself with your full name when you pick up your mobile phone, Jack?”

It’s Shitty.

“Hey, Shits.”

“How often, Jack?”

“Very often?” He asks, not sure how to proceed.

“That’s right. When will you start listening to me?”

“I’ve never listened to you. You give pretty shitty advice.”

“At least I’m pretty. Unlike you.” Shitty keeps ripping him about his inability to use modern technology correctly. Jack smiles at himself. This is so familiar, so comfortable to chirp Shitty, to get chirped back without mercy.

“So why I was calling…”

“You were calling because of something specific? And I thought you just wanted to call me out like you always do.”

“Jack. I love you, bro, but you _need_ to up your game concerning technology. In every aspect. It makes me sad, to see that potential getting run into the ground.”

Jack just laughs. “Maybe I would, if a certain someone would have taken the time and thought me how to use things ‘properly’ instead of only chirping me about it.”

“But chirping you is so much fun.” Shitty drags out the ‘so’ for several moments and Jack chuckles at his best friend’s antics. He doesn’t even know how they became friends. Shitty was just there and then he never left. He never let Jack’s grumpiness irritate him, and he even had come to Jack’s very early morning practice back when they still were in college. He had constantly complained about it, but he has not once missed practice. Because Shitty knows how important hockey is for Jack.

“Anyway,” Shitty interrupts himself, “Ransom and Holster are coming to visit this weekend. We’re going out. Reliving the good ol’ days.”

“Shitty, I really –”

“I know what you’re going to say, and no, you are coming. No back talk.”

“Shits, …”

“No, Jack.”

“We are going to have fun and you will be there, too. We’ll pick you up at 8, Saturday evening.”

“Alright, Shits.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing your ugly mug.”

The line clicks and Jack sets his phone down on his new coffee table. He doesn’t really feel like going out, but it looks like he has no chance. His friends can be damn persistent to get things their way, especially Shitty. He was on the right path, studying law and becoming a lawyer, as persuasive as he is. Or Jack just doesn’t have the guts to tell his friend ‘no’, but that’s another topic entirely.

So Jack does the only thing he knows, he gives in and lets Shitty have his way. They go out to a tiny local bar on Saturday evening and Jack actually finds that he is enjoying himself.

He hasn’t seen Ransom and Holster since graduation back in May. They are draped over one another, laughing at an inside joke no one knows but them. Jack doesn’t feel excluded, though. This is familiar and he smiles to himself.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Shitty asks him teasingly when he gets back with another round of beers for him, Ransom and Holster. Jack is still on his first, while the others are much closer to being drunk being on their fourth, fifth beer by now.

The atmosphere between them is relaxed, due to the buzzed state of his friends, but Jack enjoys the playful ribbing.

“So, Ransom, how’s April?” April had been Ransom’s girlfriend back in May and Shitty kept chirping how such a ladies’ man could become so domestic in just a few weeks just because of one special girl.

Ransom just shrugs. “We broke up.”

“You broke up?!” Shitty’s voice is so loud in Jack’s ear and he wonders how he still has a functioning hearing or any eardrums at all. Shitty is a very loud human being normally. Today is no exception. “So you’re back to being single and ready to mingle?”

Ransom looks at Holster with a, is it fond?, look in his eyes. Jack can’t tell.

“Actually,” Holster says, looking only slightly sheepish, “Ransom’s not really single right now.”

“No, I’m not,” Ransom smirks, and there’s a twinkle in his dark brown eyes that Jack has never seen there before, not even after they won the championship of the college ice hockey league.

“Who are you seeing, are you dating or are you already in a relationship?” Shitty is stumbling over the words, he’s talking so fast.

“Holster.”

“Holster what?”

“I’m seeing Holster. He’s my boyfriend.”

“What?” Shitty is screaming at the top of his lungs now. “Since when, how did that happen, why didn’t you tell me?” Shitty looks scandalized.

“We did just tell you,” Holster says with a shit-eating grin.

“I can’t say that I didn’t see that coming,” Jack mutters to himself, but suddenly all eyes are on him.

“What, how, why?” Shitty is shouting in his ear.

“Where have you been all these years, Shitty. It was obvious. They are true bros. But we’re his true bros, too, but they’ve always been close. Much closer than us, Shits, and we’ve been best friends since forever. They’ve been all over each other since the second they met. We were there, Shitty. How didn’t you see this?”

“I didn’t even know you were gay!” Shitty exclaims. “And I thought I’d be a good person to talk to. I’ve had so many people come out to me at Samwell. Why didn’t you? My hope in all you gays is lost.”

“I’m not actually gay, Shits.”

Ransom and Holster look at each other with the most obvious devotion in their eyes. “It was enough that we came out to each other, right?”

Ransom nods and laces his fingers through Holster’s.

“Can we call a truce on terminology here, I’m not at the top of my game today,” Shitty relents, “I’ll just call you all not-as-straight-as-I-thought. Would that be acceptable?”

Ransom and Holster both laugh out loud and Jack chuckles to himself. He hasn’t even known how much he’s missed them until he got to meet with his old friends again.

Their conversation strays from the topic of Ransom and Holster’s new relationship, instead they talk about Shitty’s classes and Jack’s new hockey team. Ransom and Holster are both incredibly excited to hear that Alexei ‘Tater’ Mashkov is even more of a lunatic (in the best way, of course) in reality than on the Falconers video podcast.

Jack’s eyes travel to Ransom and Holster’s hands that lie casually on the table, their fingers threaded together lightly. They are always in contact, more often than not, and Jack couldn’t help but feel jealous of the ease of their relationship. On top of that, he couldn’t quite manage to get his mind off of Eric. He had been so sure that they had something more than just friendship, but apparently this friendship only came with this weird Savant crap and hearing his voice inside his head.

* * *

He jolts awake the next morning, his head heavy despite having had only three beers which should be nothing compared to his height and weight. He really shouldn’t have a hangover, but here he is, sporting a headache that feels like it’s going to last for days.

He goes through his routine mechanically, but he can’t get his mind off Eric’s light brown eyes, with those little golden flecks scattered throughout his iris. He and Eric had been so good together, that effortless ease that he only felt when he was with Eric. He misses the feeling as much as he misses Eric’s presence in his life. But nothing good can ever last, not for him, right?


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who commented on the last chapter, I'm so glad you're all still here. From now on I'll be posting the chapters as I write them, so you'll always be up to date!
> 
> So, this is a shorter one, but it fits much better if I make a cut here rather than later. :)
> 
> It's mostly from Eric's point of view, but there'll be more of Jack to come!
> 
> Enjoy!

Eric doesn’t think about it. Honestly, most times he tries not to think at all, it’s just so much easier. No thinking, just baking.

He’s always done that when he didn’t know what he should do, his little bakery is his refuge and he can escape all his worries. But not even baking seems to help his situation. Eric is rolling out the dough for the pie crust for the third time in ten minutes. He just can’t get it to the right thickness. It’s either too thick or too thin.

“Bitty?” Dex pokes his head into the kitchen where Eric is slowly losing his mind.

“Not now, Dex. I need to finish that first.” Eric deflects. He accidently smashes his rolling pin a little too hard into the dough. Great, now he can start again. If he does this again he can forget the dough and has to start from scratch again and make a new batch.

“Uhm, Bits…” Dex tries again after a few minutes.

“What is it, Dex?” Eric can’t help but feel angry at the constant interruptions.

“I think you maybe should take a break?”

For the first time, Dex catches Eric’s attention. “A break?” Eric shakes his head vigorously. “No, no, no, no, no… I can’t take a break now. I still need -”

“You need a break,” Dex interrupts him. He takes Eric by the shoulders and gently leads him away from his workstation. “First you need to take a break, maybe even take a nap, and then we’ll talk about what we’re going to do about your predicament.”

“My predicament. There’s nothing…” Eric tries to protest.

“Break first, then we’ll talk,” Dex insists. He pushes Eric through the door to the café and sits him down on a chair next to the display of all their baked goods. He goes back to tending to customers and leaves Eric alone with his thoughts.

Immediately Eric’s thoughts go back to Jack. That’s usually all he does these days, thinking about Jack. Even though it’s been nearly two weeks after their big fallout, Eric hadn’t still been able to get Jack out of his head.

Getting involved with Jack, telling him that he’s his soulfinder had been a spectacularly bad idea, and Eric should have known that. He should have known the second he’d connected with Jack, but Jack hadn’t recognized him as his soulfinder. He could whack himself in the head at how excited he’d been to find his missing half. He should have known better.

He just can’t concentrate on a single task. He’s jumping in between a thousand tasks he needs to do without being able to finish a single one of them.

Eric knows his baking has suffered extremely from his lack of dedication. The frosting on the donuts has been too runny on several occasions, the muffins were just a little too dry last Friday and the cookies Eric had perfected years ago come out of the oven burnt on Wednesday.

Eric is at his wit’s end. On top of everything, he’s going to get himself fired if he can’t even get the simplest recipes right anymore.

After tending to all the remaining customers in the café, Dex goes to get a second chair and sits down at Eric’s table.

“So, Bitty, tell me: What is going on with you lately?”

Eric’s thoughts run in circles as he searches for the perfect excuse for his behaviour that will stop Dex from asking any further questions and also worry him not that much. He knows he has absolutely no poker face and he prays Dex won’t be able to see through his lie(s).

“I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately,” Not entirely true, but not entirely false either.

“Could you get help for that?”

“I am, to be honest. I’ve been to a doctor on my day off last week.” Eric takes a deep breath. No one has to know that the only person he consulted about his emotional state was his mother who’s everything _but_ a doctor. “I’ve been trying some relaxation and meditation techniques, but they haven’t really been helping yet.” Good, focusing on how he’s trying to get better so Dex won’t ask why exactly Eric has sleeping troubles in the first place. He tries not to elaborate any more, or he’ll start rambling soon and he’ll blow his cover.

“Hope you’ll get better soon, Bittle,” Dex says and the expression on his face tells Eric that he’s relieved.

From then on Dex leaves Eric alone with his troubles and goes back to cleaning the counters.

* * *

Eric’s heart isn’t the only one that is still very much affected by the events of that one particular day, Jack doesn’t think about.

He needs his head in the game and not somewhere with a certain blond-haired, honey-eyed, tiny baker. His teammates, especially Marty and Thirdy have been chirping him endlessly for being so distracted at practice, but Jack knows that there’s more to it.

The pre-season is going pretty well for the Falconers, they’ve lost some, but they’ve also won some. It doesn’t really matter, not yet anyway, but Jack knows that the stakes will be raised once the regular season starts.

He can feel his anxiety slowly creeping up to him, but there’s nothing he can do except take a few deep breaths and brace himself for what there is to come.

* * *

If there was one good thing that came out of the whole Eric-and-Jack-mess it is Eric’s acquaintance with Lardo and Shitty.

Eric had met Lardo while he waited for Jack while he was on the phone with god-knows-who who apparently was much more important than Eric. He’d ducked out of the restaurant and never come back. Eric has eaten his food and waited a long time after, but even with him being a very patient person, that patience had eventually run out.

Enter Lardo.

She hadn’t been his waitress, but somehow she had picked up the sadness that surrounded Eric. She had come over on her break, offering Eric hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies, because with chocolate everything’s not as bad as before. They’d been talking about anything and everything.

They chatted throughout Lardo’s entire break, even a little longer as they’ve forgotten the time until Lardo’s boss called out to her.

The rest was history. Lardo had popped into the bakery two days after and hadn’t really left ever since. Most days she could be found on the table next to the counter, sketching away in a frankly enormous sketchbook.

To this day Eric hasn’t gotten more than a tiny glimpse of Lardo’s art, but he’s a patient man and he can wait until she feels ready to share her art with him.

With Lardo, there was another addition to Eric’s tiny circle of friends if one could even call it a circle, mind you.

Eric barely knows anything about Shitty. He knows everything about his opinions on gender equality, heteronormativity and so on. Shitty is incredibly vocal about his opinions and Eric appreciates him being so enthusiastic about every single thing he talks about.

He knows Shitty is training to be a lawyer and he’s a friend of Jack’s from college, but that’s it. He doesn’t even know his real first name. He also doesn’t know how Shitty and Lardo know each other, but Eric suspects that they are together, as in being-in-love together, even though they’ve never said anything towards Eric that even hinted they are a couple.

It’s Tuesday and Eric is restocking the display case with his mini-pies in apple, cherry and pecan. Eric has taken over more and more task in the bakery as Clara was introducing and training him in everything he needs to know if he wants to run his own bakery one day.

Eric almost drops one of his pies when Shitty comes bursting through the door, Lardo trailing behind him as if she isn’t even fazed by Shitty’s enthusiasm.

“Bitty! You have to tell me you’ll come! This is the perfect opportunity!” Shitty exclaims, his whole face lighting up with excitement.

Before Shitty could launch into full-fledged monologue about whatever thing he is talking about.

“Hey Shitty, hi Lards,” he greets them. “What fantastic thing exactly are you talking about, hon?”

“Are you free this Thursday night? Please tell me you’re free this Thursday night!”

“Why should I be free Thursday night?” Eric can’t help but feeling confused at Shitty’s unconnected ramblings.  

“Because Johnson has a date and of course his date is much more important to him than watching the Falconers play. But now that he finally got his lady to go out with him, he refuses to reschedule.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“Lards and I, we have a spare ticket to the game on Thursday and we _know_ you’re obsessed with hockey and your new pal Jack Zimmermann is playing, so we thought this would be the perfect opportunity to go and see them play!”

“Well, I’m honoured Shits, but there’s no way I can afford a ticket for a Falconers game. I’ll have to pass. I’m sorry.” For Eric, the discussion is over. “What can I get you two? A coffee, black, for you Lardo? And a caramel latte for you, Shitty?”

Lardo simply nods, but Shitty doesn’t seem to agree with him.

“No, no, no, no, no, Bitty.” He throws his hands in the air.

“You don’t want a caramel latte? What do you want instead Shitty? I can get you anything you want? You want something to eat, too?” Eric asks, looking at Lardo.

“Wait, what? Of course, I want a caramel latte!” Shitty screeches. “Don’t you know me at all? Anyway, you’re getting this all wrong, Bitty. We’re not asking you to come. You’ll come with us whether you want it or not!”

“Okay?”

“We got an extra ticket and we decided that you should be the lucky one to accompany us, Bitty. You don’t have to pay anything.” Lardo interrupts Shitty before he can even take a breath to start anew.

“You want me to come with you?”

“YES!” Lardo and Shitty shout at the same time.

“Now you get it, man.” Shitty fake-sighs.

Not that Eric wouldn’t have loved to see an NHL game, but he wasn’t really keen on seeing Jack again. His wounds have barely scabbed over and he’s afraid that seeing Jack again, even if it’s only from afar, the sight of him and feeling his presence close to him will tear them wide open again.

But if he’s going to decline he has to explain himself to Shitty and Lardo and how do you explain a soul connection and his extraordinary visions of the future to normal people without them bringing you to a psychiatric ward?

That’s right, you don’t.

So Eric does the next best thing.

“Oh, sure. I’d love to come with you. I can’t wait.” He says as he serves Lardo her coffee. She breaks into a rare bright smile and Shitty almost doubles over from pure joy.

“Guys, guys. Tone it down a bit. There are other people here,” Eric tries to shush them. They shut up immediately, but their smiles brighten Eric’s whole day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, leave me feedback in the comments. It keeps me going and motivates me to no end to hear from you!
> 
> Up next: The Providence Falconers vs. The Pittsburgh Penguins


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Providence Falconers vs The Pittsburgh Penguins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plus, there's a scene with Eric and Jack in here becauseI realized I haven't really had these two interacting lately and thus decided this story needed some more Eric-and-Jack action. 
> 
> Tell me if you spot any mistakes and I'll fix them right away! I don't have a beta for this story anymore so all mistakes are my own.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Jack can’t sleep. He’s tossing and turning, but he can’t seem to fall asleep. Tomorrow – no, today, a glance at his alarm clock tells him, is game day. It’s the first game of the regular season and Jack desperately tries not to let his nerves get to him.  


At 3:30 am, Jack finally gives up. He isn’t going to get any more sleep tonight, so he could just as well get up and start his day early. It’s only one and a half hours until he’d have to get up anyway.

Thinking about what to do in his extra hour, Jack starts his daily routine. He taps into his open-plan kitchen and throws a few frozen fruit, some protein powder and a little milk into his blender to make his pre-morning jog-smoothie. He takes his time to drink, brushes his teeth, changes into his workout clothes, laces up his running shoes and starts out the door.

Jack takes his usual route through the city, running past the blocks of houses. He revels in the dark quietness of the streets and concentrates on the sounds of his feet hitting the pavement.

He tries regulating his breathing, to not over-exert himself. He stops the urge to run faster than he can keep up with at a good pace. He’s lost in thought and doesn’t really pay attention to his surroundings. He’s run this route so often, his body knows where to go almost on his own. No need to think about where he’s going.

This early in the morning, the city is eerily quiet and Jack enjoys the silence that is only interrupted by a few early birds.

That is until a small person shoots around the corner, Jack can't stop anymore and he braces himself for the inevitable collision.

* * *

On his way to the bakery, Eric speeds up his steps. The wind bites on his face and he can't wait to get something warm, sweet and preferably chocolatey into his system. He always has coffee or chai tea in the mornings. He needs at least either caffeine or sugar to get him started, but today he really craves some hot chocolate.

He tugs his jacket closer around his body, even if it's only September and some people still run around in shorts, Eric is from Georgia and he is definitely not built for cold weather.

He rounds the corner quickly and goes to cross the empty street when a large body collides with his and Eric goes flying backwards.

He shrieks and mentally prepares himself for a hard collision with the ground when a hand closes around his upper arm and pulls him upright again.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going," a familiarly deep voice with a very familiar accent says.

"It's okay, I'm okay, Jack." At the mention of his name, Jack visibly recoiled. "Hey," Eric tries to soothe him, "It's just me, don't worry."

"I'm sorry, Bits," Jack says softly.

Eric's heart churns at Jack's tone and the mention of the nickname of his nickname. Maybe all hope wasn't as lost as he'd thought after all?

"I'm okay, Jack, really. Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine."

"Good, good," Eric says, not knowing where to take the situation from here. It is a little weird to meet Jack after two weeks of radio silence. “So, um, Jack. Would you like a coffee? I surely need one.” He doesn’t want Jack to go just yet but he also doesn’t want to weird him out of force him to stay.

 _Keep it cool. Keep it casual._ Eric repeats the mantra in his head.

Jack looks a bit dumbfounded at first, but somehow he nods anyway. Eric gives him a small but sincere smile before he turns around and crosses the street and goes to unlock the front door of the bakery.

Eric knows that Jack is trailing behind him, he can feel his mind at the back of his. Before Jack enters the little café, he stops right on the threshold, holding Eric back.

"Bitty, I can go, you know?" Eric can see the conflict in Jack's mind playing out on his face. "You don't have to invite me."

"Oh honey, one thing you should know about me: I would never invite you or anyone if I wasn't willing or prepared for you to take me up on it."

"If that is so, I'd like to have coffee with you if I'm not keeping you from your work."

Eric nods and Jack releases his arm. Eric skins tingles under the contact, even through the two layers clothes he’s wearing. Eric knows he’s in way too deep, but maybe they can try and be friends like they were before all that Savant stuff? He decides to at least try and make it work to the best of his abilities.

He goes to work like today is just another regular word day, completely tuning out his guest. Eric turns on the coffee machine that comes to life with a whirr. He turns on as few of the lights as possible and makes his way into the kitchen to begin prepping the doughs for most of the baked goods he wants to make today.

Singing under his breath, he goes to work methodically. He only remembers Jack when he feels an anxious feeling through their connection. It’s not a very strong feeling, not at all what his mother described what she felt when connecting with his father.

Eric runs back to the café. Jack is still standing in front of the counter where Eric left him in favour of doing his work.

“Oh my goodness, Jack! Why didn’t you say something? I didn’t even make you a coffee!”

“I – uhm.” Jack looks incredibly uncomfortable. “I just didn’t want to disturb you but also I didn’t want to leave without any notice,” Jack says drawing his eyebrows closer together.

“Oh hon, don’t you worry.” Eric suspects that his words don’t have the soothing effect he’d aimed for and just unsettled him even further. Probably it would be best if he’d just go back to normal and forget about any upsetting events of this day. It’s not even 5 am yet and he already managed to fuck everything up.

“What kind of coffee would you like?” He asks to cover up his worries. He scoots over a menu to Jack and motions him to finally sit down at the counter.

“Just a regular one? Black?”

“Of course, coming right up!”

Jack chuckles lightly and immediately Eric feels at ease in his company again.

“I would make you one of the really fancy ones, too. You just have to say the word.”

“Fancy coffee? Like a Pumpkin Latte or a Frappu-mochachino?”

Laughter bubbles up in Eric’s chest. “A Pumpkin _Spice_ Latte, you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You seem to be the expert in fancy coffee lingo.”

“Oh hush.” Eric laughs and swats Jack’s bicep with his dishtowel.

This time when Jack grins, it’s genuine and not even a little bit forced or awkward. Eric counts that as a big win. He wouldn’t mind seeing Jack smiling like this all the time.

* * *

Jack sips his coffee and watches Eric doing his work. He’s allowing himself to see Eric’s aura, just once he tells himself, but once he’s started he can’t stop.

Bitty seems to be happy, working in his bakery, humming under his breath. But there’s something that isn’t quite right. Jack remembers the colours of Eric’s aura when they first met clear as if it had been yesterday. Today, it’s completely different. There’s nothing of the intense honey golden, bright-as-the-sun glow about it, Jack has trouble even seeing Eric’s aura in the first place. It’s unusually subdued and it doesn’t light up when Eric smiles at him.

He doesn’t know what has brought this change in Eric along and he can’t help but blame himself. Apart from blaming himself isn’t going to help Eric at all, Jack has a hunch about what to do to fix this but at the same time he hasn’t got the courage to do anything just yet.

So he does what he feels most comfortable with and just sips his coffee and it is good; their companionable silence.

Eric takes a break and joins Jack at the counter, pushing a cinnamon strudel over to Jack.

“Tell me what you think?” He asks and when Jack looks over to him he notices the faint blush that’s dusting Eric’s cheeks.

“I’m trying some new things, but I need an independent opinion.”

It’s not like Jack can refuse Bitty’s request. “Sure. I’m no expert whatsoever so I might not be the best help.” Despite his words, Jack takes a bite of the strudel and instantly the flavours explode on his tongue. It’s sweet but not too much, it’s cinnamony and it’s oh-so-good.

“C’est genial!” Jack can barely hold back a moan. He shouldn’t be surprised at how amazing this little strudel is. He’s tasted – and enjoyed – Bitty’s baking before, but with this Bitty’s baking has taken new heights.

“Incroyable! This is amazing. Are you going to add this to the menu?”

“I’m just messing around.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Everyone’s going to be addicted to this.”

“I’ve been…” Bitty clears his throat, “I’ve been thinking about it, yes.”

Jack smiles and nods at Eric encouragingly. He lo – he likes the way blushing brings out the golden flecks in Bitty’s eyes.

The time slips by faster than Jack has anticipated and too soon he has to say goodbye to Bitty and leave for this morning’s practice. Jack lingers at their goodbye. He doesn’t want to go just yet, he really enjoys Bitty’s company after all. Mentally, he makes the note to go to Eric’s bakery again as soon as possible.

* * *

The door closes behind Jack and Eric sinks back against one of the high-chairs next to the counter. He has no idea what that just was, but gosh it was nice if he dares to say so.

He would have enjoyed Jack’s company even more if there hadn’t been the little voice in the back of his mind telling to finally complete his bond with Jack. The constant effort of shoving the urge to be with Jack, hold him, kiss him, care for him is getting stronger with every second they spend together.

Eric isn’t sure if he can survive spending time with Jack without actually being _with_ him. But he’s definitely going to try to get to know Jack even if it’s going to kill him inside.

* * *

Jack goes through his pre-game rituals mechanically.

He meditates for half an hour and uses the breathing techniques his therapist showed him. Jack always takes his time to come down and relax a bit before a big game otherwise his nerves would kill him on a regular basis. He makes himself two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, wraps one up and wolfs the other down way too quickly.

He arrives at the stadium way too early but Marty is already there. Jack is really glad not to be alone and to have some moral support.

“Hey, Marty.”

“Good to see you here, Jack. How’re you feeling?”

“Nervous,” Jack admits.

“That’s good. We can work with that.”

Jack tries a small smile and he’s surprised when it comes out genuine. Marty comes over to him and squeezes his shoulder.

“You know, we all got your back, n’est-ce pas?”

Jack nods and he feels so reassured. He can do this. He knows his team and his team knows him. He’s focused.

All the pre-season games went great for him and he feels like he’s getting better each game. But he isn’t going to jinx it and admit anything.

* * *

With half an hour left of his shift, Eric makes his round through the café, asking his customers if everything's still alright and serves them refills for their coffee.

He almost drops the hot coffee pot when Lardo and Shifty burst through the door, all decked out in Falconers blue and white. He mentally scolds himself, he really needs to work on not always dropping things when he's startled. It's simply not good for the business.

"Yo, Bitty!" Shitty exclaims way too loudly. "How ya doing, man?"

"I would be better if you wouldn't scare me to death every time you show up here." Eric rolls his eyes fondly.

"And where would be the fun in that?"

Eric just sighs and goes to make both their favourite hot drinks. "You know that my shift only ends in a bit? You'll have to wait for me if you want to go to the arena directly from here."

"There's nothing I'd rather do," Lardo winks at him. "If only I could get some pie to go with my coffee."

"Coming right up! Today we have apple, cherry, and lemon-meringue."

Lardo grins widely at him. "Cherry, please?"

Immediately Shitty starts singing, "She's my cherry pie..."

"You know that there are still other customers here?" Eric says rolling his eyes, "Could you please tone it down a notch?"

"If you say so... spoilsport," he mutters under his breath which earns him a laugh from Lardo and an "I heard that!"

Nonetheless Lardo and Shitty wait patiently until Eric has finished his shift, has changed out of his work clothes into his normal ones.

They insist on putting him in a Falconers hoodie that is swimming on him. He complains endlessly how they couldn’t get his size right and please, he’s not that small, the Falconers must also sell men’s merchandise in his size. But truth be told Eric doesn’t mind the big hoodie all that much. He likes how big clothes feel so warm and cuddly and he looks forward not being cold at an ice hockey game.

* * *

The audience ranks begin to fill in slowly while the Falconers are on the ice warming up. Jack is running drills with Poots and Tater before taking some shots at the goal. Jack knows his shots are good even though Snowy stops four out of his five shots.

Snowy is one of Jack’s favourite people on the team and sometimes they’re so in sync that Jack thinks Snowy knows where Jack will shoot before he knows. Or maybe it’s just the fact that Snowy is a world-class goalie.

Jack lets his eyes glide over the masses of people in white and blue and seeing all these people supporting his team, supporting him is frankly overwhelming. In the guest block, there are already some hardcore fans settled with banners in black and yellow. Jack always loves seeing their logo because the hockey playing penguin never fails to amuse him.

He could swear he saw a glimpse of blond hair and a honey golden aura in the audience right before the puck drops. But he knows that it must be a trick his eyes play on him because there is no way that Eric could be here, right?

It’s just a trick of his mind that longs for Eric to be here, to support him doing what he loves most.

* * *

Shitty pushes Lardo and Eric in front of him.  

“We’re in row 5, seats 22, 23, and 24! Holy shit, these are some good seats!”

Pushing through the other fans, Lardo walks and despite being smaller than Eric, she’s astonishingly effective in pushing other people out of her way. They are seated so close to the glass that’s separating the ice from the ranks that there’s no way Jack’s not going to notice they’re here. They’re close but not too close so they can’t see the whole ice

Eric still doesn’t feel like he should be at this hockey game, he should at least have warned Jack that he would also be there to avoid any possible awkwardness. Or at least to check if it was okay for him to come?

Lardo and Shitty don’t know about his fallout with Jack, they don’t know about them being Savants and they also don’t know Jack and him are soulmates. And if Eric has any say in that matter, they will never know either. They still think Eric and Jack are friends, even though Eric has stopped talking about him. He thinks that Lardo has probably picked up on him never adding anything to the conversation when they’re talking about Jack and hockey, but so far she hasn’t mentioned it.

He tries to bury his worries in the back of his mind, Jack will never know realize he’s been to this game, right? So, there isn’t much of a problem then, right? Right.

He spots Jack the second the teams enter the ice. They get on their positions and then the puck drops and Eric’s on the edge of his seat.

The constant stream of questions seems never ending but Lardo answers each and everyone with the patience of an angel. He’s only gotten into hockey because of Jack and Eric know so little about the game, so he does what he does best and that’s asking questions until he knows everything about it. He doubts he’s going to remember everything.

He can feel the vision before he sees it flashing before his eyes. He grips Lardo’s arm hard, bracing himself.

_The brick wall of a Pittsburgh defenseman comes rushing towards Jack. Jack is smashed between the d-man and the boards and there’s an ugly crack that even Eric can hear on his seat and …_

_Jack! On your left!_ Eric screams in his mind. This cannot happen to Jack, he has to do something, _anything._ He can’t just let this happen to Jack. Jack who’s his soulfinder, his other half to so speak. He can’t let him get hurt.

Jack shoots around immediately and Eric will be eternally grateful for his amazing reflexes. He avoids the defenseman by hair’s breath.

Looking around confused, Jack is distracted by Eric’s warning and has lost sight of the puck. He doesn’t see it flying right at him.

Eric flinches when the puck crashes into Jack’s helmet. Jack stumbles, loses his footing and tumbles down in slow motion. His body going slack, he slides down the glass and slumps onto the ice. Eric’s just sitting here and he can’t do anything. He’s frozen in his seat, tuning out everything around him, his focus solely on Jack.

The examination seems to last an eternity. When they’re done Jack seems to be awake again. However, when a close-up of Jack’s face lights up on the big screen there’s blood on his fair skin.

* * *

 _On your left!_ Eric’s voice rings through Jack’s head. Instinctively he shoots around and sees the defence man of the opposing team coming right at him. He’s coming at Jack so fast, he can just barely duck out of his way and the next thing he knows is his head crushing into the glass and he’s seeing stars and the world is fading from his eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be so cliché-y, but I love it so here we go!
> 
> Disclaimer: I know next to nothing about concussions, so please excuse any medical inaccuracies. Or if you know more about that, tell me so I can learn from you. :)
> 
> Enjoy!

“Bits, you need to breathe.” Shitty has braced his hands on Eric’s shoulders.  


“I’m trying,” his words come out ragged and rough. He forces himself to regulate his breathing, taking control over his body.

After a few moments, he’s able to breathe more freely and Shitty’s concerned look is replaced by a grin. “I knew you could do it!”

“Is Jack,” he gulps audibly, “is Jack going to be okay?”

“Of course,” Shitty squeezes Eric’s shoulder. “He’s going to pull through. He’s had worse.”

“Like that’s going to make it any better.”

“He’s going to be okay, don’t worry,” Shitty interrupts himself, “You can worry a bit, sure. But don’t worry too much. He’s going to be okay.”

“There was so much blood.” Tears are shimmering in Eric’s eyes, they’re seconds away from spilling over.

“Yeah, I saw. It didn’t look too bad, though.”

Eric nods, not trusting himself to speak without breaking out in tears.

“We’ll go see him after the game, yes?”

He nods, relieved that he’ll get the chance to check on Jack himself. He just needs him to be okay. He needs to know that Jack is safe.

He sits the rest of the game anxiously, he’s extremely distracted and doesn’t even realize that the Falconers scored. His thoughts are with Jack the entire time.

* * *

When the buzz in Jack’s head starts to fade slowly, the brightness of the room hurts his eyes and he realizes he’s lying down in the doctor’s office. At least he’s not in the hospital, so it can’t be too bad. He reaches for his face and his fingers come in contact with a band-aid on his forehead. He winces at the contact as the pain shoots through his skull.

He lies back on back on the cot. Jack closes his eyes and lets the darkness envelop him. He tries to relax as well as possible.

Jack only realizes he has dozed off when he’s shaken awake by the Falconers’ physician.  She looks at him with a silent apology in her eyes. “We need to make sure you don’t have a concussion. You took quite the hit out there. Plus, you passed out for a little bit, so we have to be extra careful.”

“Don’t I know it,” Jack groans. Before he knows what is happening he is surrounded by a mass of people. He thinks he sees Shitty trying to push through to him, and Lardo’s black hair poking through somewhere behind Tater and Marty.  

They’re all talking over him and Jack can’t find the energy to concentrate and pick out the different voices, so it soon all blends together and he can’t understand a single thing they say.

* * *

Eric is standing behind Tater and Marty. They shield Jack from his view and he really wants to make sure himself that Jack is alright. On the other hand, he knows that Jack wouldn’t want to see him here. Their talk this morning was nice, friendly but that still doesn’t make them friends.

So, Eric just listens to the other’s talk over Jack, he doesn’t really reply much to his teammates which worries Eric. He tries to stay back and let the others talk to Jack but Shitty takes him by the shoulders and pushes him forward and in front of Tater and Marty. Shitty gives them a pointed look for shutting all the others out and they immediately look bashful and let Shitty, Lardo and him have a moment with Jack.

Now that he’s finally face to face with Jack, he doesn’t know what to say. He’s just standing there, not looking at Jack directly because he doesn’t want to see the whole expense of Jack’s injuries up close because he doesn’t know if he can stand to see his soulfinder hurt right now.

The silence in the room is suffocating but then Jack clears his throat and Eric finally looks up at him only to find Jack smiling at him.

It’s a small smile, it’s a little crooked and Jack looks so earnest that Eric thinks this can’t possibly be real.

* * *

Jack is dreaming. He must be. There isn’t any other explanation to why Bitty is standing in front of him, his forehead in deep creases. He must be worried, Jack thinks, he just can’t find a reasonable explanation to why he would be.

“Bits, hey,” Jack’s a bit delirious, sue him. “You’re here, too, eh? Did you see my goal?”

It takes a long time for Bitty to answer him, emotions, confusion, flashing over his face. His aura is blinding to Jack and he can’t really tell why.

“I saw,” he says, his voice jittery. “As far as I can tell, not that it’s much or anything, but Lardo referred to your play as ‘genius’. I really enjoyed watching you play, at least that was until you got hit. I didn’t enjoy that at all, you know.” Jack can tell he’s rambling and he finds it endearing. So, he doesn’t dare interrupt him.

“Great plays, yes. Your goal was ‘swawesome. You did such a good job, I’m so proud of you.”

Eyes wide in shock, Bitty clamps his hand over his mouth, in a poor attempt to stop the words that just keep tumbling out of his mouth without his permission.

Shitty looks at Bitty with a knowing smile on his face, as if he was in on something Jack wasn’t.

“Thank you, Bitty. This means a lot to me,” Jack doesn’t mean to say that, but just as Bitty couldn’t stop speaking, he can’t either. It’s like the truth wants to come out against their will. They have gone not talking, not seeing each other for far too long, when it’s plain obvious for everyone that Jack and Bitty are perfect for each other. It seems as if they are just meant to be.

Jack’s heart is beating fast when this realization settles in. He and Bitty are meant to be together no matter how hard they try to fight their fate.

He’s in love with Eric Bittle. The tiny baker had taken his heart by storm. He’s just so gone for him. Line, hook and sinker without Bitty actually doing anything.

* * *

Jack’s physician comes back and shoos everyone out of the room except a select few. Eric smiles one last time at Jack and turns around to leave.

“No, Bitty can stay.” Jack’s voice turns Eric’s insides upside down.

Eric turns around instantly. “You sure about that, honey?”

Jack nods forcefully and he winces, drawing his shoulders together. His injury must put Jack in a lot of pain and Eric can’t even imagine who that must feel like. He’d gladly take the pain on himself if that would mean that Jack wouldn’t have to suffer.

“So,” the physician interrupts Jack and Eric’s intense eye contact. “You’ve got a mild concussion, Jack. You might have already guessed that.”

“Judging by the enormous headache, yes.” He tries a smile even though Eric can see how much pain it causes him.

“You need to be under supervision for the next 48 hours minimum.”

“Uhm.”

“Do you have anyone who can stay with you?”

“No.”

“We can put you into the hospital where you’ll have supervision if there’s no other option.”

Eric doesn’t want Jack having to go to the hospital. Hospitals are his personal hell. No one should have to go to the hospital, just because there isn’t any other option. It’s just not fair that he doesn’t have any immediate family in Providence.

“He can stay with me.” Eric blurts out. He didn’t mean to say that but he still means it.

Jack looks at him with his eyes as big as saucers.

“Or you know, I’ll stay with him and check on him. I don’t know if I’m even qualified to take care of him. You’ll have to tell me what I’ll have to do,” Eric knows he’s rambling, but he feels like it’s only in Jack’s best interest to put that out there.

“You’d do that?”

“Yeah. If it means you don’t have to stay at the hospital, sure.”

Jack’s physician, Eric doesn’t know her name, smiles at him. “That’d be great, Mr …?”

“Eric Bittle.”

“Thank you so much. We’ll let Jack have some rest, while we go over what you have to expect from caring for a person with a concussion.”

Eric nods, feeling a little overwhelmed. But no matter what happens, he wants Jack to be well and he’ll do everything he can to achieve that.

* * *

Jack despises hospitals. He can’t stand them ever since his overdose. He hates the sterile white walls, the harsh lights, and the biting scent of antiseptic in his nose every time he tries to breathe. He doesn’t want to stay in the hospital if he can help it, but it looks like he doesn’t have any other choice.

“He can stay with me,” Bitty interrupts Jack’s spiral of negative thoughts.

Jack is left speechless.

Bitty would really do that for him, sacrifice his free time just to take care of Jack?

* * *

Eric is incredibly nervous when he backs out of the parking spot with Jack’s frankly enormous car. He prefers going by bike and not manoeuvre this small tank of a car through the streets. He doesn’t like parking garages either, but what other choice does he have to get out of it other than driving, that’s right, there isn’t any other.

Jack is a bit delirious when Eric picks him up from the doctor’s office and leads him to the car. His grip on Eric’s arm is like a vice, so strong that Eric thinks he might crush the bones in his arm if his grip gets any stronger.  

He successfully gets Jack into the passenger seat even though Eric has to help him get his seatbelt on. He finds the way to Jack’s apartment without any greater problems but he still takes a wrong turn twice while getting there.

* * *

Jack is content. He’s going home and Bitty’s coming with him. His head still hurts and he’s feeling a little woozy. He can’t think straight.

* * *

Eric knows that Jack’s a little out of it. He knows that’s probably a side effect of his pain medication, just as the physician said it would be. So far, nothing’s out of the ordinary and Eric feels more confident that he’ll actually be able to deal with this situation now that he’s got something to do and he doesn’t have to just sit and wait for others to tell him what is going on.

They arrive at Jack’s apartment. At first, Eric fails at opening the front door because he’s just not able to unlock the door. After a few awkward moments of fumbling, he finally manages to unlock the door.

Eric helps Jack settle into his bed. Jack groans when his head hits the pillow but it only takes a few moments for him to fall asleep. Eric gently pushes a strand of hair out of Jack’s face and makes sure the blinds are shut completely, so the sun won’t make his head hurt more in the morning.

Only when he’s sure that Jack is as comfortable as he can be he goes to learn the layout of Jack’s apartment. He’s going to spend _at least_ two days here, so he might as well make himself at home.

* * *

Eric’s heart bleeds every time he has to shake Jack awake during the night. However, he manages to get a more or less lucid and coherent answer out of Jack.

Things seem to be looking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there's a lot of realizing happening in this chapter, I promise I'll work on my vocabulary. ;)
> 
> Up next: Jack and Bitty are getting domestic af. :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one took me forever... I'll just blame it on my exams and hope you'll forgive me. :)
> 
> Enjoy!

Jack feels like he has been asleep for ages. He squints at his alarm clock through the darkness of his room. It says it is 9:30 am.

His whole body feels like he has been run over by a two-tonne truck over and over again. His muscles are tense and he can swear he can feel his muscles knot up when he tries to move. Nonetheless, he attempts getting out of bed. If he has to spend these 48 hours in bed in a dark room he’s going to go crazy.

Slowly, he rearranges his limbs and sets his feet on the ground next to his bed. He aches all over but he’s a little proud of himself when he reaches the door of his bedroom. He opens the bedroom door carefully and immediately he’s overwhelmed by a cloud of the most intense scents.

He can’t really differentiate between them other than _that smells amazing!_

There’s some clanking in his kitchen and he thinks he can hear someone singing under his breath.

Jack crosses the open floor plan of his apartment and when he passes his refrigerator he can see Bitty crouching down in front of Jack’s oven, pulling out a delicious looking pie. Jack thinks it must be pie but with Bitty he can never be sure. He loves his creations. They’re classic, yet at the same time inventive and almost everything he sells at his bakery has its own twist that makes it even more special and delicious.

“How are you feeling, Jack?”

“Good.”

Bitty’s head shoots up and his light brown eyes pierce Jack soul.

“No, I’m not well, not really anyway. I’ve got the worst headache of my life, I can’t barely move because my muscles are so incredibly sore.”

Bitty’s eyes got bigger with every word Jack says. “You should sit down, sweetheart.” Jack tries to insist that he’s feeling well enough to be standing in the kitchen with Bitty, but he’s having none of it.

* * *

Eric is baking in Jack’s kitchen. He’s never been truly in love before (Jack doesn’t count, not yet anyway, right?) but now he thinks he is. It has shiny marble countertops, all the appliances are top-notch and they look like they are brand new.

The only downside to it is that there’s practically no food in there. Nothing he could use to bake anyway. Jack’s fridge is packed with healthy looking fruit and vegetables but the only items Eric finds in Jack’s pantry are two jars of protein powders.

So, if Eric wants to be staying here for a few days he’ll need a change of clothes as well as some baking supplies. It’s only logical to make the short trip down to his apartment and grab everything he needs.

* * *

Before he leaves, though, he makes sure Jack will be alright in his absence. He knows that he won’t be gone for too long, but he can’t help but worry that Jack will wake up and try to get up while he’s not there to make sure he’s okay.

Eric carefully places a tall glass of water onto Jack’s nightstand. He moves as quietly as possible as not to disturb Jack. Eric knows that he’s exhausted from the game and needs his rest. He also knows that he has to wake him up every hour to check on him. He doesn’t want to, not necessarily, because it means that Jack will hurt, but Doctor’s orders always come first.

He doesn’t shut the door to Jack’s room, just as a precaution and he knows that he will feel better if he can hear Jack waking up.

* * *

Eric packs up his things in speed time. The worry that something will happen to Jack while he’s not there overtakes his own exhaustion and he’s back at Jack’s place after a little more than thirty minutes.

He checks on Jack religiously, always making sure there’s water and pain medication (in the correct dose of course) near Jack.

* * *

Jack drifts in and out of sleep. He’s exhausted, but his sleep is restless. He can’t toss and turn like he normally would because his head hurts every time he just thinks of moving a muscle.

The time passes and Jack has no idea how much time exactly has passed because Bitty has moved his alarm clock to the living room where the red light of the digits won’t hurt Jack’s eyes.

* * *

Eric is in the kitchen making dinner. Jack is there, too, sitting on one of the dining chairs watching Eric work. Eric likes Having Jack near him, his presence is incredibly calming. He's so good at making Eric feel at home.

Jack clears his throat right after Eric has put a lid on the pan, to let the food simmer for a bit.

"What about the fact," Jack makes honest to God air quotes around the word fact, Eric simply can't deal with this man, he's so god damn adorable, "that I'm a Savant just like you? That I'm apparently your soulfinder?"

"That is still true, Jack. But even if you'll never want to acknowledge that, I will learn to live with that."

"You will?" Jack looks puzzled, "But know would be the perfect opportunity for you."

"What? Why?" Eric goes around the kitchen Isle until he's standing right in front of Jack. Is he really...

"You could complete the soul bond, you know?"

Is Jack really saying what Eric thinks he's saying? That can't be possible!

"While you have a concussion? Where you can't get away from me? While you're hurt and vulnerable?"

Jack says nothing in return and Eric's stomach churns. It's the moment he has feared his entire life. It's like all his worst nightmares are coming true all at once.

"Jack." Jack's looking intently at his fingertips. "Jack, honey, please? Please look at me?" he pleads.

Jack lifts his head slowly, anticipating the worst to come raining down on him.

"Jack," Eric cradles Jack's face in his hands. "I would never ever do anything to hurt you. And I won't ever do something without your consent. Never, Jack. If you never want to bond with me, that's completely fine. This is about the both of us, you and me. It's not just about me. This is about you. You're the most important thing in my life, Jack. No matter how you'll decide. I am here for you, no matter what."

Eric can see the tears shimmering in Jack's bight blue eyes even though there seem a nuance darker now.

"Oh, honey." Eric doesn't know what to do. He desperately wants to comfort Jack, but he doesn't know if it's his place. He could make everything worse with the fragile state Jack is in.

He's still thinking about what to do when he feels Jack's arms sneaking around his waist and pulling him closer. Closer and closer until their pressed together. Jack lays his head against Eric's chest.

Eric can't help but run his hands through the dark tousled strands of Jack's hair.

"I'll never do anything you don't want, you know that, right?" Eric could swear he feels Jack nod, but then the feeling is gone and he thinks he might just have imagined it.

"We can do whatever we want. We don't ever have to bond if we don't want to. We can make our own history. No pressure." Eric has no idea if he's being reassuring or not, but he hopes that he can calm Jack down to some extent.

He can't stand to see Jack sad and upset. Plus, being upset won't help Jack if he wants to get better soon.  

Eric's heart breaks as Jack sobs into his t-shirt. He feels small and helpless because there's nothing he can do to make feel better. So he just holds him and rubs Jack's back.

They've been like this for a long time when Jack's tears finally subside and he feels strong enough to speak again.

Bitty has been whispering the sweetest things in his ear, constantly reassuring him.

"You'll stay?"

"As long as you want me to, Jack."

Jack nods, and the relief expands in his chest and finally he feels like he's able to breathe again. He looks up and into Bitty's brown eyes that are shimmering with tears.

"I want you to stay," Jack says, his voice sure. He goes to hug Bitty again and he gently slings his arms around Jack’s upper body.

“I will.” Bitty’s voice is so soft. Jack breathes in deeply and relaxes into Bitty’s embrace.

Dinner is completely forgotten until the shrill ringing of the alarm splits Jack's head.

Bitty pets Jack’s hair gently. “Honey, I need to go check on the food, okay? I’ll be right back, yes?”

Jack nods slowly. “Yeah, that’d be good. We don’t want to burn down my apartment, eh?” He tries to joke. It’s probably lame anyway.

Bitty’s bright laugh is the best thing Jack has ever heard. He smiles at Bitty, but when he remembers that the food is ready he pushes him away because it looks like Bitty won’t let go until Jack is ready to let him go.

“Our food will burn.” Jack states.

“Oh, yes, yes of course.” Eric rushes back into the kitchen and takes the pot off the heat and then proceeds to pull something out of the oven that smells like heaven. But that’s just Jack’s humble opinion.

He can’t help himself and he promptly points it out. The beautiful pink flush that rises on Bitty’s cheeks is absolutely worth it.

* * *

Eric is over the moon, Jack wants him to stay. He never thought that Jack would open up to him in a million years, so he savours the moment that Jack does.

However, he does try not to let it get to his head. Jack’s sick and he needs his help. Eric goes back to doing what he knows. He reluctantly lets Jack go and then he sprints to the oven where dinner has been cooking for a little bit too long.

It must be his lucky day because his stir fry turns out to be perfect. He goes to serve Jack and himself. Eric watches Jack dig in and a warm happy feeling settles in Eric’s gut.

He will have to drive Jack to his check-up appointment tomorrow and he’s got his fingers crossed that everything will be alright.

He has barely eaten anything when Jack finishes his plate. Eric throws him a sunny smile as he asks if Jack wants a second helping. Jack nods enthusiastically but then winces because of the sudden movement.

Eric rushes over to him to make sure he’s okay and he can barely hear Jack’s answer over the worry that clouds his head.

“Bitty. Bits. Eric.” There’s concern laced into Jack’s voice and Eric looks up at him.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

“I’m okay, really. I just moved wrong. It’s alright – I’m alright.”

“You are really feeling okay?”

“Yes,” Jack states surely and he sounds a little bit sheepish. “Really.” He mimics Eric.

Eric knows a chirp when he hears one. He doesn’t have the energy to chirp back, so he just smiles and hopes that this is forever. It certainly feels like it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for going on this journey of a WIP with me.  
> Tell me in the comments what you think, what happens next, whether you liked it or not. You can also come and yell at me on [my tumblr](http://stardustandangels.tumblr.com/) and bug me about new chapters.


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